A King Imprisoned
by Princepen
Summary: Captain Jean-Luc Picard unwittingly falls under the sway of an ancient spell. Can he be saved before a powerful evil is unleashed on the Enterprise Crew and the known universe?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Trek.**

***Note that this story takes place in the third season of TNG, following the story "Ghost Ship". As one reviewer noted, the ending of Ghost Ship plants the seed for this story, although not a true sequel. So while you don't have to read Ghost Ship, you can read the Epilogue for the set up. **

**Prologue**

**The Planet El Auria…Centuries Ago**

The grandmother leaned over the child lovingly, enfolding her in her arms. The scratchy skin of her brown-skinned hand gently glided over the young girl's smooth face as she hugged her tightly. Intelligent six year old eyes looked attentively up at the old woman. She knew her grandmother did not have long to live. There were many things the girl knew intuitively; and many of the elders, including her father, said she was gifted in that way.

"Your father told me you went up on the mountain yesterday," her grandmother said as though reading the girl's mind. Of course, her grandmother had the gift too.

The girl nodded silently, keeping her dark brown eyes focused respectfully on the lined face above her.

"You must be careful, young Guinan. For there are many dangers in this world. And soon I will be gone and will no longer be able to protect you. And your father is too consumed with his work to keep an eye on you."

"I saw the pool up on the hill," said Guinan. "It was so beautiful. And it was so hot yesterday. I just wanted to dip my feet in the pool."

"And what would you have done if you had fallen in?"

"Momi, I do know how to swim!"

"You are basing your assumption on the premise that the pool was filled with water."

Guinan looked at her grandmother in confusion. "What else would it be?"

The old woman smiled faintly. "Tell me, child, how many times have you been up to the top of that hill? Ten times...perhaps twenty?"

Guinan nodded yes.

"And have you ever seen that pool before yesterday?"

Guinan squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember, then slowly shook her head no. Her eyes grew wide again. "How did it come to be there, Momi?"

"Maybe you saw what you wanted to see, child. You must be careful."

"You mean because I was hot and tired, I saw a pool of water? But you told me that the things I create with my mind are good things; that they are my own."

A shadow passed across her grandmother's face. Was it fear? She pushed Guinan away and gripped her shoulders tightly, looking deep into the girl's eyes. "You did not create what is up on that hill, and you must promise me that if you go again, you will keep your heart open and free, and filled only with love."

"Why, Momi? Why are you so scared?" Despite her usually calm disposition, Guinan felt her lips begin to tremble.

Her grandmother sighed. "Your father does not believe in such things. He has forbidden me to tell you of the old ways."

"Oh," said the girl. She settled back in her grandmother's arms, and fell silent. "But…father never asks me what we talk about. Like you said, he is too busy with his work. Don't you want me to know the old ways?"

Her grandmother rested her chin on the top of Guinan's head, deep in thought for a few moments. "Yes, I do," she said after a time. She gently pushed the girl to her feet again. "Go and close the door. Then come back, and I will tell you a story."

Guinan jumped up, excited, and ran to the door, pushing it closed. It was heavy, not like the doors in the newer buildings. Everything about her grandmother, including where she lived, seemed ancient. She turned to face her grandmother and then walked back slowly to sit down across from the hunched figure. "Is the story you are going to tell me true?" Guinan asked.

Her grandmother's face grew sober. The firelight seemed suddenly to ebb, and Guinan felt what could have been a chill pass through the small house. Or it could have been her vivid imagination. "Yes, it is true," said the old woman. "But often I wish that it was not."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**El Auria...Centuries Ago**

"Paren, it was irresponsible for you to create this device and then hide it away."

"I didn't build it so that the people on this planet could have a toy to play with, mother." At three hundred years of age he did not appreciate being scolded by his mother, but he knew this was simply her way.

"Then why did you, son?"

_To find my wife, who has run away from me and deserted her daughter,_ he thought, but did not say aloud. He moved around inside his workshop, wishing that his mother would leave him be. "It is to be used only when necessary; a method of enhancing the gift...for those of us who have it," he explained, since she remained standing in the doorway expectantly.

"Your daughter has the gift," his mother reminded him. "She may already be capable of shifting dimensions on her own."

"For now she is much too young," said Paren. "Perhaps when she has grown older…."

"And then when she is older I hope you will let her be free," said his mother.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her watching him. "Free? Like her mother?"

"You must not punish the girl for the way her mother behaved. When she is ready to use her abilities, you must allow her to do so, son."

Paren nodded, but there was still hesitation in his eyes. "You are right," he said, although his eyes were still cold. First his wife, Guinan's mother had left them alone to travel the galaxy as though she didn't have a care in the world; as though she didn't have a family. And as usual, his own mother could not even show him the compassion to understand that he did not want to lose his child as well.

"Good," his mother said simply. "Because someday, this world may need her help."

* * *

**Enterprise 2366**

"So I've been having these headaches," he said moving in swiftly. His opponent stepped to the side and he adjusted his blade just in time to deflect her blow. She had been practicing, he noted slightly impressed. Only slightly.

"I don't suppose you've mentioned this to your physician?" Guinan asked, as they stepped back into position.

"No," said Picard, raising his blade and dropping it before resuming the ready position.

"How do you think she would feel to know that you're telling me?" She advanced brazenly, and he shuffled backward.

"Taking this rather seriously today, aren't you?" he asked, fending her off again.

"You still haven't answered my question, Captain," the bartender pressed him.

"Well, she might feel a bit left out," he admitted, pausing. Guinan jumped toward him suddenly, and he deflected the blow, before landing a point against her torso. "What was that all about?" he snapped, beginning to feel rather annoyed.

"You said you had a headache, and you are obviously distracted by emotional concerns...so I am just capitalizing on your weaknesses," she said.

"Emotional _concerns_! Well I've had nothing of the sort," he protested, now on the attack.

"If you say so, Captain," said Guinan. "But if I were you, I would talk to Doctor Crusher. Emotions can be powerful things. I'm reminding you of this, because you are so good at hiding them. It doesn't mean others are as talented at doing so."

"Pause program," he shouted. It didn't occur to him that there was nothing to pause, for they were the only moving parts to this particular holodeck program. "Guinan, what the hell are you getting at?" he demanded, ripping off his fencing mask. He pulled off his sweaty gloves and threw them on a nearby bench.

His friend's expression was innocent. "Relationships can be difficult, Captain. I am just trying to lend a hand."

He glowered at her and ran a towel over his face, before draping it angrily around his neck. He sniffed, and continued to stare her down, but she remained silent. "I appreciate your counsel…but right now I don't need it. And my headaches, I assure you, are not being caused by my _emotional concerns_—not that I have any," he added quickly. Picard threw her a towel, which she caught easily and watched him walk away.

"All the more reason to see a doctor then," she called after him as he exited the holodeck.

* * *

_**Captain's Personal Log Star Date 43128.5**_

"_Having just completed rather difficult political negotiations on the newly admitted Federation member planet Vidian IV, the crew is resting briefly before our next mission. While we await our orders, my command officers and I have been invited down to the famed Vidian Gardens to take part in a traditional spring celebration…. I admit I am slightly reticent to participate in what appears to be a religious ceremony, and I continue to have reservations about the Vidians' readiness to enter the Federation, however-"_

The door beeped. Someone was requesting entry to his living quarters. Jean-Luc Picard blinked in annoyance, and slid his chair backward. The arrival of another person reminded of his irritating conversation with Guinan earlier in the day. "Computer, pause," he said. "Come in," he said, addressing the doorway, and getting to his feet.

He moved around the desk, nodding as his visitor walked in, his annoyance turning into something more complex. He knew what this was going to be about, and yet, as usual, he felt he was at a disadvantage.

Beverly Crusher walked slowly toward him. "I was on a break, and thought I'd come by to talk," she clasped her hands in front of her as thought about to begin a monologue. "I hope that I'm not interrupting your work, Captain."

He smiled and walked closer to her. He knew that using his formal title while they were alone was something of a subtle dig, despite the neutral expression present in her features. He had been distant lately he knew, just as they were beginning a tentative romantic relationship.

Several weeks ago, believing that death may have been imminent, they had admitted their long secret love for each other and then had made love for the first time. The danger had passed, and they had taken a vacation together on Risa, with other various crew members tagging along. Now, the pace had slowed considerably, and they both knew it.

"No, please do come in," he said with a smile.

She took his offer of a seat. He sat down across from her and waited for her to speak. She hesitated and took a deep breath before starting. "Look, Jean-Luc; I can see that you've taken a step back…which is fine. Of course this is very new for both of us. Everything happened so quickly during the whole ordeal with Claudia…all I'm trying to say is that… well maybe we did rush things." She looked at him searchingly, hoping he did not decide to retreat further from her.

His smile faded slightly, and he looked down. "There were moments that I feared I would never see you again," he said quietly, examining his hands. "And because of that belief, perhaps I acted in ways I would not normally. Perhaps we both did." He looked back up at her. "But I don't regret anything I said to you…nor do I regret that we…." He swallowed and trailed off. His strange headache was slowly creeping back into his skull, making his thoughts feel a bit cloudy. He blinked again.

Beverly sighed, and looked relatively relieved, not seeming to notice that his discomfort may have been physical. "I don't regret anything either. I just have noticed you've been quite distant since we returned from Risa. I know I've been quiet as well. I've been thinking a lot about what happened to Allen."

Picard rubbed his hands on his trouser legs. "I'm sorry, Beverly," he said quietly. "Have you spoken to Counselor Troi about it?" He saw a brief expression of embarrassment flash over her features, and he cleared his throat. "Of course, I am always here if you need to talk. I wasn't trying to suggest that you needed to see Troi—or that you couldn't talk to me about these sorts of things, because of course, you can…."

To his surprise she laughed abruptly and reached over and put a hand on his knee. "I know I can, Jean-Luc. I know…." She smiled gently at him, and he took her hand. "And I also know that discussing private subjects makes you uncomfortable, so I try not to blindside you with them. But I do enjoy talking with you." He smiled back at her, and they fell into a more comfortable silence. He was beginning to feel more comfortable lately just being with her and not feeling the need to speak.

Beverly frowned as she studied his face. Dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes. "You look so tired," she said, and reached out to touch his face.

As if on cue, he retrieved his hand from hers and covered his mouth as he yawned. He shrugged slightly. "I'm fine," he said trying to sound reassuring. "In fact, I am sleeping so soundly, I haven't dreamt in…." he trailed off, realizing he couldn't remember having dreamt at all since their return from Risa. This was actually disappointing since he rather enjoyed dreaming about Beverly.

_I'm fine, _he'd said. Beverly was learning to ignore these small lies he told, and instead of letting this one anger her she simply pressed him for a more convincing answer. "Is it the Vidian situation? I know it's been stressful for you, but at least it's over now. Another success no doubt," she said brightening. "Of course there are bound to be some bumps along the way for any new Federation society."

He stood up. "I suppose the final negotiations have been on my mind…but you are right of course; the Vidians have made their case, and passed the requirements for membership."

She stood up. "Jean-Luc, I can tell you're still troubled. You are trying to convince yourself, but you don't believe they should be Federation members yet. Why?" she asked curiously.

He faced her. He was trying to make the effort to be more open, less distant. But he was used to being a solitary person. Despite his indignant response to Guinan, lately he had been having doubts, despite his new closeness to Beverly. It was difficult to undue years of his belief that they would never be together. Now that they were together—at least now that they were making the attempt to be together, he had to get past these insecurities. He touched the desk top lightly with his fingertips. "I don't think the Vidians are ready," he admitted. "I know they have an established democratic government, have demonstrated a commitment to Federation principles…."

"And warp capability," Beverly added. "Not to mention a highly advanced system of medicine."

"Yes…" he agreed.

She frowned, and then gave him a puzzled smile "So then in what ways have they not met your standards, Captain?" She thought a moment while watching him. Then it dawned on her. "It's their devotion to their religion, isn't it?" He made a dissatisfied face, but said nothing. She hit him on the forearm lightly. Was Jean-Luc Picard capable of intolerance? Rarely did she have a glimpse of him as a person with human prejudices. "Captain! What does the Vidian religion have to do with their readiness to enter the Federation?"

He folded his arms over his chest and stared at the floor for a moment before slowly raising his eyes to meet her curious gaze. "Beverly, centuries ago we learned the hard way again and again that mixing government and religion had mostly disastrous consequences. More often than not it led to despotism and sanctioned intolerance and ignorance in every corner of the Earth. I simply do not understand how a supposedly advanced society could still believe in such things."

She stared at him in open surprise. She didn't entirely disagree, but was surprised at the vehemence of his opinion on the subject. "But have you studied their religion?"

"Not closely," he admitted.

"Well then how do you know they are clinging to intolerance and ignorance? You of all people, as a representative of the Federation should be willing to give these people a chance."

He shook his head. "Look…Beverly; I just believe that if you _must_ be religious, it should simply be a personal view. There is no place for superstition and religious faith in modern society." His tone was final and imperious, as though he was a teacher and she was his student. Normally, she would be starting to grow angry right about now, but she had had so few private conversations with him lately she decided to let it go. She would let the subject drop. For now.

Beverly Crusher shrugged and shifted feet. "Are you going to get dressed soon? The ceremony is only a few hours away, you know."

"Of course," he said. "Thankfully Commander Riker convinced the Vidians to allow us to wear our own clothing to this event. That doesn't mean I'm excited to wear my dress uniform," he reminded her.

Beverly opened her mouth as if to say something, before closing it again. The pink color on her cheeks seemed to stand out suddenly. Picard watched her with mild interest. Was she blushing?

"What?" he prompted.

"I've always liked the way you look in your dress uniform," she admitted sounding slightly embarrassed.

Despite his immense modesty when it came to such matters, he smiled.

* * *

**El Auria**

Guinan sat quietly as her grandmother continued the story. She pulled a blanket around her small shoulders. The glow of firelight made the shadows in the darkness outside seem to close in around them.

"Once El Auria formed and life evolved, a very powerful being took notice of our waywardness and she offered us her direction and guidance."

"Orla!" exclaimed Guinan. "She is our protector."

"Yes," said her grandmother with small smile. "For millennia she watched over all life on this planet, until one day an equally powerful being visited, and tried to claim El Auria for his own. The ancient people called him the Other."

Guinan sat staring up at her grandmother in rapt attention. "What happened?"

"The people of El Auria were very ignorant and although they loved Orla, or perhaps _because_ they loved her so much, they feared the newcomer would drive her away from El Auria, and they tried to kill him."

Guinan clapped her hands over her eyes. "Did he die?" she squeaked out, peaking between her fingers.

Her grandmother's face seemed to flicker in the firelight. "Oh no…instead he became even stronger. Their hatred and violence only empowered him."

Guinan dropped her hands. "But…what did Orla do?"

"Orla was so dismayed at the behavior of the El Aurian people that she left us, and did not return for many, many years. She vowed to stay away until we truly learned to heed her direction, which of course was that we practice peace."

"Is that how we became the People Who Listen?"

"Yes," said her grandmother, pleased. "Before we could earn her protection and guidance again, we had to lose her. Eventually we as a people learned to listen, and use those skills to heal others. But it took many years of suffering for the people to come to understand what Orla had been trying to teach us for so long."

"What happened to El Auria while Orla was gone?"

"War, famine, and death. Just what the Other wanted."

"But, Orla returned. What happened then? Did she kill the Other? What happened to him?"

Her grandmother yawned. "I am growing tired, little girl. You will have to wait until next time to find out."

* * *

**Hi everyone, thanks for taking an interest in this story...I am looking forward to seeing how it plays out. Take care. -PP**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

**El Auria**

"Even when the majority of the people of El Auria began to see that they had been wrong, they still were made to suffer. Because the Other ruled as a cruel king over the people. He fed off of violence, and when the people gathered together to try and topple him, he even grew stronger. Civil war was widespread now that Orla was no longer there to watch over the people."

"But why did Orla desert us? By leaving the people to suffer she was also cruel," Guinan said with growing outrage.

"I never said Orla was perfect, and anyone who believes she was only capable of kindness does not tell the whole story," explained her grandmother gently.

"Then what made Orla return?"

"She saw many of our people trying to resist the Other, and helping to care for one another. She saw that the people and all of life on El Auria were doomed unless she intervened. And so she returned to confront him."

* * *

Picard stared into the mirror in his bedroom and had to admit Beverly had been right; he looked tired. He sighed. After a vacation and three weeks of sleeping deeply each night, it seemed quite odd. His head was pounding. Perhaps he should just give in and tell Beverly about his persistent headache. But something made him cautious. He adjusted his collar again, but just as he turned to leave his eye caught on a glossy black object lying on his dresser. The artifact. It had changed size and shape several times since he first found it half buried on Risa. This was strange, but for some reason did not alarm him.

He recalled that he had placed it in a small case in his desk, so it was strange that more often lately he found it in this spot on top of his dresser underneath the mirror. He reminded himself to have Data test the artifact in his lab. It was not like him to forget, but yet he had. A sudden irrational fear passed through him. What if the tests Data performed altered the artifact in some way—or even damaged it? The room seemed to close in around him, accompanied by a strong wave of nausea.

But then just as soon as it arrived, the feeling departed. Shrugging, he picked the artifact up, and suddenly felt it to be quite heavy in his hand. He gazed at it for a few moments and marveled at its perfection and beauty. Deciding against putting it away, he slipped it into his pocket instead, and now feeling wonderfully and yet inexplicably invigorated, left his quarters.

* * *

It was the Vidian festival for welcoming the spring season. He just should have known. Picard had allowed Commander Riker to make the arrangements, coordinating with the Vidian government. At least, he consoled himself; he would not have to participate in the ceremony, which turned out to be very creative. But this did not change the fact that everyone at the ceremony, except for the visiting Enterprise crew was naked. Ah, Riker. No doubt he found the situation highly amusing.

At dinner, he sat at a long banquet table, at which the council elders of the Vidian government also sat—nude of course. Riker and Troi sat on either side of him. Directly across from him were LaForge and Data, and to Data's left sat Beverly Crusher and Worf.

Picard gave Riker a sideways glance. "You knew about this?" he murmured uneasily, glancing over at the wrinkled body of the High Chancellor. The Vidians were humanoid, and frankly, he would have rather at this moment that the Vidians resembled something less familiar; perhaps a jellyfish, or some other beautiful creature.

The corners of Riker's eyes crinkled when he grinned, and yes, he was clearly amused. "Of course, sir. I had to really negotiate in order to convince the Vidians to agree to let us wear our uniforms."

Picard raised his wine glass and paused, offering Riker a faint smile. "Have I ever told you how much I value you as an officer?"

Riker laughed. "Many times sir…but always nice to hear again." He grinned again. "The Vidians believe that by baring themselves, as they were when they were born, they represent the new life of spring—"

"Thank you, Number One, I understand the symbolism." Picard took a sip of the refreshing drink and his eyes shifted and rested on Beverly. She was laughing and gesturing at LaForge who had apparently said something funny, while Data sat between them with a bemused expression. He felt a pang of something powerful in his heart. He truly did love her, more than anything. Why was it so difficult for him to express such overwhelming feelings? As he placed his glass down on the table his eyes fixed again on Beverly, and finally she noticed his gaze and smiled radiantly at him.

Riker was talking again. "I couldn't talk them out of the Final Embrace, though sir."

Picard's head jerked around to glare at his First Officer. "Final Embrace? What's that?"

Riker cleared his throat, and tried to maintain a serious expression. "Exactly what it sounds like, sir."

Picard's eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Commander," he snapped.

Suddenly uncomfortable under the Captain's piercing gaze, Riker tapped the table top with his fingers. "Once the entire presentation is through the guest of honor—which is you, sir—shares a…rather lengthy embrace with the High Chancellor."

Picard's brow creased as he looked at the Chancellor again, then back at Riker. "So I have to hug him." He sighed and then shrugged. "I've gone through worse, surely," he said as though trying to convince himself.

"Yes, but the embrace is intended to last several minutes, sir."

"Several _minutes_?" Picard said looking at Riker as though he was crazy.

"Yes sir. Very important to maintain the embrace for as long as possible, until the ritual chimes sound, as a display of unity between our two societies, Captain."

Picard harrumphed and drank the rest of the contents of his glass. "I don't suppose I could use a stand-in," he muttered darkly. _Perhaps Mr. Data…._

They quieted and looked up, as the Chancellor was beginning to speak.

From across the table, Beverly watched Jean-Luc. How he was able to keep such a straight face while surrounded by so many unattractive naked bodies, she had no idea. She supposed that his self-control was one of the things that made him so successful in diplomatic situations, and certainly as captain of a star ship. But she wondered if these same qualities would prove to be a hindrance in their budding relationship. She put the negative thoughts out of her mind, because she knew he recognized his limitations—he had said as much. She knew he was trying. The more she looked at him, the more she wished they were somewhere alone, enjoying each other's company.

"And so," said the Chancellor, "please enjoy this presentation; our welcoming of the spring season and a new dawn for Vidian society."

The table quieted, and the ceiling of the room transformed into a night's sky. They craned their necks upward as three dimensional images of spirits flying through the sky whirled around them. It appeared to be a re-enactment of a love story between two beautiful beings. During the final negotiations, the Chancellor had mentioned several times to Picard the importance of the god and goddess who were believed to be the progenitors of the Vidian people. He assumed that the images above them were representations of the couple's epic journey, which had been filled with heartache and triumph alike. The story, although quite religious and melodramatic, was very touching—if you liked that sort of thing. At some point Picard began to feel dizzy, and he tore his eyes away from the spectacle, only to find that Beverly was staring at him from across the table in the darkness. He stared back at her, feeling the familiar connection growing, until the show abruptly ended, and the lighting in the banquet room returned to normal.

Picard blinked and picked up his glass, getting to his feet. "A remarkable presentation," he said with a genial smile, projecting his voice through the room. He raised his glass. "On behalf of the Enterprise crew and Starfleet, I thank the Vidian people for welcoming us to your world, and allowing us to participate in your most treasured ceremonies…and as you stand on the cusp of a new and exciting era, know that we stand with you, welcoming you into the United Federation of Planets."

There was applause around the table, and Picard nodded and sat back down. The Chancellor began to speak again, about his gratitude, his excitement about the entry into the Federation, and then his speech took an oddly religious turn. "Surely the gods of yesteryear would recognize the blessings we have here today, and would recognize that it is fate that Starfleet sent us such wonderful ambassadors. Captain Picard is not unlike the sage warrior Rento, who many cycles ago became the savior to our people when he taught us the true ways, that we follow today."

Picard shook his head slightly, and had to struggle to keep from objecting vocally. Then he heard a voice; a mere whisper really. He actually turned his head and looked around, but the people around the table were listening respectfully to the Chancellor's speech. No one was talking to him. He heard the whisper again, and realized he had no idea what the voice was saying. But it was there nonetheless. He shook his head again, feeling a pressure inside his skull. For some reason he reached beneath his dress uniform jacket and found the artifact. He gripped it, and then felt the pain ebbing slightly. But the whisper became louder. He dropped his head, and stared at the table cloth. Closing his eyes he saw an image of a battlefield with dead soldiers all around him. Was he there? And then the image faded, and he jerked his head back up.

Feeling a wave of nausea, and distantly recognizing that the Chancellor had stopped speaking, he got up from the table. The bright colors and lightheartedness of the room returned and he straightened his uniform. Turning stiffly, he scanned the room and found the doorway they had used to come in. His head pounded between his ears, and he just needed a few minutes alone. "Please excuse me," he said to no one in particular and moved to the exit.

* * *

He hadn't seen Beverly follow him, but she had, almost immediately. Out in the hallway, he stood with his head just touching the wall. He breathed slowly, but the pressure in his skull seemed to grow now in concert with the whispering voice. He couldn't even tell what it was telling him. Even more than the pain, this was unsettling, for he was not a man who heard voices.

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly stood nearby in the shadows. "What's wrong?" She walked toward him, not waiting for his answer. And he didn't answer, he just stood still. He was afraid that if he spoke the pain might increase, so he stayed quiet.

Beverly stepped closer and placed her hand on the back of his neck. "What's going on, Jean-Luc?" she said softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

He put his fist on the wall and pushed himself away from the wall to look at her. "It's my head," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "It's very painful," he said touching his temple gingerly.

She took a small instrument from a small med kit and put it to his temple. It made a faint whirring sound and glowed red. "Everything is reading normal, but this instrument is only for emergency purposes. We need to get you back up to the Enterprise as soon as possible. I'll run some more reliable tests."

He leaned back against the wall and sighed. "Alright. But I need to finish the ceremony first," he said.

She pulled out a hypo and injected it into his neck. "Just something for the pain. Now you can finish the ceremony. I doubt that you would listen to me if I told you not to." She smiled at him, but her eyes were full of worry.

He reached out and touched her arm and then took her hand. "Thank you…I am beginning to feel better." He squeezed her hand, and she tightened her fingers in his.

"Jean-Luc, how long has this been going on?"

He looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry, Beverly. I thought it would go away, but it seems to have…gotten worse."

"How long? Jean-Luc, this is your doctor talking now…."

He shrugged. "About two and a half weeks," he admitted, looking away.

She shook her head, flabbergasted. "What? Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

He looked at her. "I told you, I thought it would go away. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept it from you."

"No…no you shouldn't have," but her anger had already left her. She put her hand under his chin. She kissed him once, then again more passionately.

"Please don't hide from me," she said. "I love you."

* * *

**El Auria**

"Did Orla defeat the Other?" Guinan asked, stirring the soup in the pan. She poured some into a small bowl and then brought it to her grandmother.

"Yes," said the old woman taking the bowl from the little girl.

"How?"

Her grandmother broke into a big smile. "Why with love of course. She defeated him with love. It took almost everything in her being to do so."

_With love?_ Guinan frowned, but said nothing.

"But something very strange happened when she defeated him," her grandmother continued. "His body shattered and broke into four pieces."

Guinan gasped. "Where did they go?"

For the first time, her grandmother seemed unsure. She hesitated. "One piece stayed here on El Auria. The other three pieces of his body spread out through the multi-dimensions. They still exist, as does the one remaining here on our planet."

Guinan's eyes widened. "The hill! It is on the hill…."

"Yes, Guinan. For now we are at peace, and we want nothing more than that. As long as we can remain such a people, the piece of the Other that lives on that hill cannot harm us."

Guinan tilted her head. "But then why are you so afraid, Momi?"

"Someday many years in the future, this world will see great trouble, great pain. And when it does, the Other will have his chance to return." She reached out and gripped Guinan's small face in her hand. "And when that happens—before that happens, you must stop him."

* * *

**Hey everyone, thanks for reading and reviewing this story. Hope you enjoy. -PP**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The Chancellor's embrace was not nearly as awkward as Picard had anticipated. As Riker had warned, it lasted at least five minutes, but he found that keeping the pain of his headache at bay now took precedence over other minor discomforts. He realized that the analgesic Beverly had given him probably helped him relax, which in addition to his successful efforts to keep from looking too closely at the Chancellor, made the remainder of the ceremony end smoothly.

At Beverly's insistence he beamed directly to sick bay and she immediately began running several kinds of brain scans. He lay uncomfortably on a bio bed as Beverly and a few of her staff surrounded him. The whispering had stopped, but the pain had not. He closed his eyes and listened to their voices talking around him, talking about him and his horrible headache. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and unconsciously moved his hand underneath his dress uniform finding the artifact in the secret pocket. His muscles instantly relaxed and he breathed more slowly.

"Why is his heart-rate slowing down?" demanded Beverly's voice.

"I don't know, doctor," he heard a nurse say.

She came to his side and touched his arm. He opened one eye. Why was it so bright in the medical bay?

"Lights, fifty percent," she called out, seeming to realize his discomfort. She squeezed his forearm. "Are you alright? I mean, besides your obvious headache. Your heart rate just dropped." She watched him searchingly. "If I didn't know better, Captain I would say you are relaxed. Not a side of you I am used to seeing."

He shrugged. "I _am_ feeling a bit better," he admitted.

"Good," she said, "Now hold still, we're almost finished with the scan." She moved away from him to study his vitals on the wall. "Nurse," she called out. "What the…will you take a look at this? There is some kind of low grade energy field….it's interfering with the scan."

She glanced back at Picard. His eyes were closed again, there was an odd look on his face, and his hand was underneath his uniform. She flushed slightly, glancing at the nurse. What on earth was he doing?

She walked back over to him. "Jean-Luc," she said in a low voice. "What are you doing?" She glanced at the screen again, and saw the field was emanating from a point near his waistline.

His eyes opened slowly and for a moment it was as if he didn't recognize her. Then his eyes seemed to clear. "Nothing," he said quietly, averting his eyes.

She leaned over him, trying to block him from the view of her nurses, who were waiting patiently for her direction. She pursed her lips, and looked at his waistline. She cleared her throat. "Jean-Luc, the sensors are showing an energy field projecting from…from underneath your uniform."

He looked at her. "Oh?"

What kind of game was he playing? "What are you holding?" she asked, her tone a little sharper. She took a deep breath. "Show me," she said.

"It's nothing, Beverly. If there's an energy field, it has nothing to do with me," he mumbled and closed his eyes again.

"Like hell," she said. His eyes shot open as she pushed her hand underneath his uniform to grab his hand. It was clenched tightly around an object.

The heat from his body underneath his hand made her heart begin to race a little bit. Annoyed at her own body's involuntary reaction, she gripped his hand, but he held the object fast, refusing to look at her.

She let out a small, embarrassed laugh. "Jean-Luc, will you_ let_ go?" she said through gritted teeth.

"I don't want to," he said stubbornly.

As she gripped his hand, the irrational fear from before took hold of him again. Unconsciously he tightened his grip on the stone. Why was she trying to take it from him?

Beverly's nervous smile wavered and then faded completely. She watched as a shadow passed over his features and his eyes grew unfocused. Then as soon as his strange expression came, it departed. He blinked.

His hand loosened and he let go of the object. She felt it fall into her palm and she pulled it from under his clothing, raising it into view. She frowned and then looked at him again. It was that artifact from Risa. He now looked completely mortified.

What had gotten into him? She shook her head and tightened her lips. "Thank you," she said in a low puzzled voice before taking the artifact with her as she departed to finish her scans.

Something blasted from his subconscious and he wanted to scream "no!" But instead he remained still watching her as she conferred with her staff.

* * *

The rest of the brain scan went smoothly, if not quickly. Still lying flat, Picard glanced across the room at Crusher. As she studied the results intently, she looked frustrated. She walked over to him. "I'm going to study these and get a report together. I suppose I will see you later." Her tone was downright chilly, when she handed him back the artifact. "Here," she said simply and turned to walk away.

Picard sat up, wincing at the dull pain in his forehead. "Beverly," he called after her. Obviously he had hurt her feelings, and he wanted to make amends.

She simply turned and regarded him with an expectant, somewhat cold expression. He supposed that he deserved it, and opened his mouth to say something, when Riker arrived in a hurry.

"Captain," he said striding up to the bio bed Picard was sitting on. "Feeling any better sir?"

Picard shrugged and nodded yes.

Riker nodded. "Sir, Admiral Nechayev is hailing us; priority one transmission. I thought we could patch her in to Dr. Crusher's office. That is, if you don't mind, Doctor," Riker added carefully, turning to look at Crusher. Silently he pictured himself reversing his steps right out of sick bay. It was clear he had walked into a tense situation. He had long ago learned to read these two well enough to know when he was entering a potential trap. It was inadvisable to get involved in any of their arguments. In fact for Riker it was just another Kobayashi Maru test- a no-win scenario. And of course, now that they were seeing each other romantically it added a whole new layer of potential trouble.

Beverly closed her tricorder with a snap and moved away from the bio bed. "That's fine," she said barely glancing up at Riker. "I think we're done here," she said shortly.

Picard clenched his jaw as he watched her walk away. He couldn't blame her for being angry with him. He hadn't even trusted her to hand her the artifact. But something…something had come over him in that moment.

Riker glanced at the Captain sympathetically.

Picard shook his head. "Don't ask," he murmured, sliding off the bed and walking quickly away.

"Oh no, sir, none of my business," agreed Riker following as they stepped into Crusher's office.

* * *

Without delay Riker switched on the monitor and they stood back as Nechayev's severe features blinked into view.

"Gentlemen," she said curtly. Picard and Riker nodded respectfully.

"As you can guess I am not calling to inquire about your health," she said with her usual deadpan expression. "You have new orders. You are to proceed to the Klingon home world, Kronos immediately to attend a conference of the highest importance."

Picard frowned. Trips deep into Klingon territory were uncommon, even though relations between the Klingon Empire and the Federation had been quite good for decades now.

"What kind of conference, Admiral?"

"Captain, since the Enterprise was transported by the Q entity into system J-25 nine months ago, at which time you and your crew had our first meaningful contact with the Borg, we have received intelligence from…unlikely sources that the Borg are planning an incursion sooner than we expected."

"Can you reveal these sources, sir?" Riker asked.

"Surely," said Nechayev. "The Romulans. And even more surprisingly_ they_ initiated this conference on Kronos."

"_What?_" Riker leaned over the desk. "The Romulans on Kronos? This is unprecedented…and crazy," he added, straightening again. Picard shot him a look.

Nechayev was unfazed. "Crazy is as good a word as any, Commander. But I want the Enterprise to serve as the Federation representative at this conference. It is imperative that we leave with intelligence about the Borg, or at least you are to ensure that we leave in as good a position in which we started. We want to know what the Romulans know, and if the Klingons know anything of import, we want to know that as well."

Picard scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Why would the Romulans, who are perpetually suspicious of Starfleet, and who absolutely detest the Klingons reach out to us, let alone organize a conference?"

"Isn't it obvious? The Borg have caused the entire Alpha Quadrant to reexamine all of our old alliances and enemies alike. _That_ is the extent of the fear they inspire."

Picard had a hard time believing that the Romulan Empire had no ulterior motive for calling together its two bitter enemies. "Anything else, Admiral?" Picard asked.

She nodded. "The only guideline I will give you is that under no circumstances are you to use weapons technology as a bargaining chip to gain information. Everything else is fair play as far as I am concerned, Captain."

Picard straightened. And why would he ever bargain with weapons technology? How odd. "Understood Admiral," he said.

As the screen blinked out, Riker turned to him, and he knew he had a similar expression on his face. "Captain…this is highly irregular. The Klingons must be desperate themselves, if they're willing to allow Romulan ships within 10 parsecs of Kronos."

"Quite right, Number One. It seems that as usual, we shall have our hands full. In any case, please meet me in my ready room in forty-five minutes, and we will go over the details."

"Aye sir."

* * *

Beverly hardly allowed the door open before she had stormed inside his quarters. It was clear that she meant business.

Picard walked around his desk, glancing warily at the data pad clutched in her hand. "Somehow I have a feeling you didn't just come by to discuss test results."

Crusher tossed the pad on a nearby table. "You're damn right. In fact, my report isn't quite finished yet anyway."

"I see," said Picard. "So you've come to argue then," he said mildly.

"You've been spending more time with that rock than you have with me," she snapped. "Now, I don't intend to crowd you, Jean Luc, but I had hoped that declaring our feelings for each other meant I would get to spend more time with you—that I would finally get the chance to know you after all these years."

_It's not just a rock_, he thought to himself, but knew better than to pick the wrong fight with her at that moment. "I know, and I am sorry, Beverly," he offered apologetically.

She walked toward him slowly. "And now we're heading out on another mission...there will be so many more excuses for us to not spend time with each other..."

"Now Beverly, that's not fair-"

"But it's true, Jean Luc." She paused. "You know, I'm not completely blind to your devotion to that little thing," she said eyeing the artifact in his hand. She folded her arms over her chest. "You've got quite the grip, Jean-Luc…you're a very strong man. Is that what being in a relationship with you is going to be like?"

"Of course not," he said quietly. He really did regret not just handing her the artifact back in sick bay.

"Will I have to wrestle with you each time in order for us to eventually see eye to eye? Because I don't know how I feel about that."

"I said I was sorry about what happened in sick bay Beverly."

She made a visible effort to calm herself down. "And I accept your apology, Jean-Luc, but I still don't understand it...it's just not like you to behave this way."

"What way?" he shot back indignantly.

"Like someone who is obsessed, that's what."

He laughed harshly. "Oh...please."

"You can look me in the eye and tell me that artifact hasn't dominated your attention these last few weeks?"

He sputtered. "It's a fascinating piece of history-"

"Which you haven't even confirmed is the Turellian Agate you said it was three weeks ago when you dug it up!"

"I'm ninety percent certain it is..."

"Do Turellian Agate stones generate energy fields, Captain?" They glared at one another for a few moments. Finally Beverly's expression softened somewhat. "It's not like you to be anything less than thorough, Jean-Luc," she insisted more gently now.

He pulled the stone from his pocket, and as though making a point, walked over to his desk and put it down. It made a sharp clicking sound. He turned back to face her. "I'll have Data test it this afternoon. I promise," he added. He walked back over to face her.

"What if…what if that rock is the source of your headaches? If my tests, and Data's tests show that it is, will you give it up willingly?"

He forced a smile. "Of course," he said, and meant it.

Her face brightened and her posture relaxed inviting him to walk closer. Perhaps, he considered in that moment she missed him as much as he missed her. "I am truly sorry for the way I behaved" he said.

"I know." She smiled and touched his cheek then slowly traced her fingers down his jaw line. He took in a sharp breath. For some reason when she did that, it made it very difficult for him to think.

Her smile widened at his reaction. "Glad to see I still have an effect on you," she said.

He caught her hand and kissed it lightly. "Yes you do," he said.

She moved in closer and kissed him on his neck above his collar. "Prove it," she whispered.

His hand moved to her hip and he tried to look into her eyes, but she was still kissing his neck. "Right now?"

Feeling his touch she moved closer and began to unbutton the top of his uniform. "Yes," she murmured, and he felt her voice vibrate seductively into his neck.

He almost could not believe it when the words came out of his mouth. "I have a briefing with Riker in twenty minutes."

"Then what's taking you so long?"

* * *

**El Auria**

She was only ten years old when she first saw how heartache could nearly kill a person. Her father had told her over and over to stay away from his workshop, and she had.

Her father's young assistant Tolian was enough to keep her away anyway. There was something…off about Tolian Soran, but what really kept her at bay was her father's wrath. She hated to see him angry. Lately he had spent more time in his workshop building his device than he had at home, leaving Guinan and her Tarcassian razor beast to have many adventures together on their own.

But one evening, her father had not been home for dinner, and the razor beast had not yet appeared. So she went looking for her father in his workshop. She knew that Soran would not be there, so maybe that gave her the courage to proceed. The first thing she heard was moaning. She slipped through the door, and looked for her father. Wasn't that him? He sounded as though he were in distress. As she entered the main lab, she stopped short.

A large purple orb of energy floated in the center of the lab. Inside the pod was a swirling stream of purple that seemed to turn without end. She walked toward it slowly mesmerized by its beauty and power. She heard the moaning again, and looked down. Her father lay on the floor in a pool of some kind of moisture. He was curled in a ball, and he was crying. "She's gone. She's all I ever had and she's gone," he sobbed. Without needing to ask she knew he was talking about her mother.

* * *

**Hi guys, thanks for reading and reviewing as always. Hope you are enjoying...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

"Why did Mother leave us, Father?" Young Guinan asked as she helped her father limp down the path to their home. Despite his previous orders for her to keep out if his lab, he seemed grateful that she had shown up when she did. She could tell he was injured. Where had he been; what had he been doing?

"She left because I wasn't enough for her. Because _we_ were not enough for her," he said looking down at his daughter. Her father had a habit of being unfailingly honest, sometimes at the expense of the feelings of others. Good thing Guinan had already developed natural defenses to emotional pain.

"But why?"

"Your mother is gifted, just as you are. She has always had a great need to use those gifts, often with little attempt at self-restraint. She can travel between dimensions effortlessly or sense how you are feeling, and find a way to help even the most desperate person. Many of our people are talented listeners, Guinan. Others can travel as she does. But none can do so as well as your mother."

"Not even you, Father?"

He laughed. "Oh most certainly not me. My talents lay in the sciences. The ability to traverse the dimensions through the power of my mind simply does not exist in me. But one day, you will see it exists in you."

Guinan fell silent as they approached their home. "So you travel with your device? That is why you created it...to find Mother."

Her father's lips trembled. "Yes, that is why. But I cannot find her. And the longer I search, the more I come to understand she does not want to be found," he said.

She suddenly stopped and gripped her father's hand looking up at him. "Let me try! I will try to find her using the device."

"No!" He bent down and grasped her by the shoulders. "You must keep away from that device, Guinan. I forbid you, do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes," she said obediently. His eyes began to glisten with tears and then he hugged her to him.

* * *

**Enterprise**

"Are you going to sit there all day?"

Geordi Laforge sat hunched over a cup of coffee at a table in Ten Forward. "Huh?" he glanced up and then back into his nearly empty cup.

"I said are you going to sit there all day?" Guinan moved from behind the bar and walked over to Geordi's table where he sat alone. "You're scaring away the rest of my customers."

LaForge looked up now with an un-amused expression. "Of course I'm not going to sit here all day…I'm actually expected at a briefing on the bridge in a few minutes." He resumed looking into his cup sullenly as though it held the answers to all of life's questions.

"Let me guess…woman problems again?" Guinan stood and watched him placidly.

LaForge sighed. "You know I thought I hit a low point when I created that holodeck image of Leah Brahms a few weeks ago…but I actually feel more pathetic now that I've deactivated it. It's as though…well I couldn't be more alone, you know?"

She put a hand on his shoulder. "You did the right thing, Geordi. A computer program only goes so far after all. Don't you think you deserve the real thing?"

He looked up at her and his forehead wrinkled as though he did not quite comprehend what she just said. "You mean a real woman?"

Guinan leaned down and looked directly into his Visor. "Yes…a real woman." She tapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, time for your briefing."

Reluctantly he rose to his feet. "Thanks…I guess," he said, glancing back again before moving to exit the lounge.

After Geordi had left Ten Forward, Guinan turned to find she was now alone. Standing there in the sudden quiet, her senses suddenly seemed magnified. She tilted her head and grew still. Her eyes narrowed. Something was on this ship that shouldn't be here. And that thing that shouldn't be on the ship should not have even existed.

* * *

Riker and Worf looked up as Picard walked into the conference room. Riker watched the Captain, as he sat down. He seemed somewhat out of breath, which certainly wasn't like him. And his face was flushed. Despite his slight shortness of breath he sat down in his chair rather slowly.

He'd only last seen Captain Picard about 45 minutes earlier, and at that time he was not exactly on speaking terms with Doctor Crusher. _Oh, this is interesting_. Riker raised a single eyebrow but was careful not to allow his growing amusement show. _Must have been just what the doctor ordered._

"Everything alright, sir?" Riker asked with a serious expression.

Worf looked at Riker and then Captain Picard. He seemed entirely normal to Worf. _Humans, _he thought.

Picard activated his computer screen and took a gulp from his water glass. "Yes," he said hoarsely and then cleared his throat.

"Thank you. I'm quite well, actually." He allowed himself a small smile. Then his expression immediately sobered, and he tugged at his uniform, tapping at his computer screen.

Geordi LaForge, who had been trailing several steps behind the Captain before stopping briefly on the bridge to brag to Wesley Crusher about the improved warp engine efficiency now entered the room. Geordi frowned as he sat down. Captain Picard's infrared readings were off the charts. "You okay, Captain? You look like you just ran five miles, flat out."

_Or the equivalent_, Riker thought, resting his chin in his hand and watching Captain Picard's curious reaction with raised eyebrows.

Picard clenched his jaw tightly. "I assure you gentlemen, I am quite well. Now, if you don't mind I should like to get on with the business at hand."

* * *

**2153**

"Guinan, please come closer," the old woman beckoned. She reached her hand out weakly. "Come..."

Guinan put down her bag near the doorway and move to sit down at her grandmother's side. "How are you, Momi?" She asked.

"For having lived over one thousand cycles I am strong enough. But soon I will move on to the next world." She began to cough dryly and Guinan handed her a cup of water, which her grandmother took with shaking hands. After drinking she placed the cup down on the bedside with a rattling sound. She took in a ragged breath and grasped for Guinan's hand.

Her grandmother was nearly blind now, but Guinan marveled that as a child hundreds of cycles ago, she had believed her grandmother old. There was no telling just how much longer she might live. But Guinan was never one to deny reality.

"You have become a great teacher of the El Aurian people, Guinan. But you are still a child."

"Momi," she laughed. "I am already several hundred cycles old."

"As I said...still a child. And still you infuriate your father. You have used his device and he knows it."

Guinan smiled. "Yes," she admitted. "I have. But unlike him I have used it for exploration and learning not for obsession. I take what I have learned and I bring it back to teach the people about other cultures and other forms of life on distant worlds."

Her grandmother's eyes seemed to sparkle in the firefight. "But you really do it for the adventure, don't you?" Guinan simply smiled in response. "Then you have not sought out your mother? Don't you want to know where she is?"

Guinan shrugged. "I'm not sure I want to find her. I hardly remember her after all."

Her grandmother's breathing became ragged again. Her eyes took on a faraway look. "You must grow up now, Guinan. We need you."

Guinan shook her head. "What do you mean?"

Her grandmother's eyes turned darker. "I have been to the future...I have shifted over one hundred cycles ahead in time and I have seen...horrible things. They are coming!" She sat up in bed and gripped Guinan's hand desperately.

"Who? Who are they?"

"Unfeeling...uncaring...they will kill and enslave this world and even this galaxy if we allow them. They care only of enslaving living souls inside of machinery."

Guinan stood up. Invaders from another world. "No..." Could this be true? She knelt down again and took her grandmother's hands in her own. "Tell me what I must do to stop them," she whispered imploringly.

Her grandmother shook her head. "No you cannot stop them. Our people will suffer greatly and will scatter across the galaxy when it is all said and done. But if the Other is empowered by their invasion this world will surely cease to exist. His plan is revenge. Yes. It has been your destiny all along, child. Stop his evil before it is too late."

The Other. They had not spoken of him in years, because they hadn't needed to. "How?"

"You must find the pieces of his soul-those scattered across the dimensions when Orla defeated him. There are three. You must find each one. And when you have found them all, you must take them to Orla."

"But...Orla can be found?"

"She exists in an area of space that can only be found if Orla sees fit to welcome you to her. It is called the Mind's Eye." Her grandmother lay back down tiredly. "Only once the three errant pieces have been brought to Orla may you rest, Guinan."

Guinan took a deep breath. "And when I find these three pieces, what about the fourth, which still sits somewhere up on the hill?"

"That is the most dangerous..."

"Why?" questioned Guinan.

"Because it is said that it fell closest to the place where the Other was defeated by Orla. Unlike the other pieces of his body which splintered around the universe it stayed here on El Auria...waiting."

"Waiting for what? Are you saying it has consciousness?"

Her grandmother didn't seem to hear her and continued. "But the old teachings said that once the three stray pieces were gathered and vanquished then the fourth would become inert and powerless. It is said that it may even fade away to nothingness. But remember that if it must be touched, it can only be handled and disposed of with a loving hand."

"So he can be destroyed? Love is powerful enough to destroy the Other?"

"No, no, you should know by now, love does not destroy. Love creates and love transforms even hate; even evil."

Guinan stared at her. Even if she was right how was she supposed to find these pieces? They could be anywhere...

"Look inside that drawer," said her grandmother apparently reading her mind. Obediently Guinan walked over and carefully opened a creaky drawer. Inside were odds and ends and a substantial amount of dust. Her eyes fell on a light brown piece of paper which had been folded into a square. Cautiously she unfolded the paper. There was nothing written on it. She turned back to her grandmother questioningly.

Her grandmother gestured to her. "Bring that here." As soon as Guinan handed her the paper it turned into a black sheet interlaced with glowing shapes and points of light. "When I die Guinan, this map will function for you as it has for me."

"It's a star chart?"

"Yes. I believe you will find it very useful. Tonight I depart for a new horizon, so now bid me farewell."

* * *

Deanna walked to the door of her office. She was surprised to have received a call from Beverly Crusher a short time ago, asking for a last minute appointment. Luckily, she had an opening in her schedule. Of course for her good friend, she would have made one.

She smiled to find Beverly standing in her doorway. "Hi," Beverly said with a quick smile.

Despite the turmoil Beverly had experienced recently she looked wonderful. "Please come in," invited Deanna, gesturing to a comfortable chair.

Her friend nodded and stepped into the room. They sat down and regarded each other quietly for a few moments. Deanna crossed one knee over the other and laced her fingers in her lap. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise."

Beverly broke into a nervous smile. "I thought I would take you up on your offer for a session. And…now's as good a time as any, I suppose." She trailed off and her smile faded slightly. She tried to bring the smile back, but now it seemed to Deanna to be somewhat forced.

Deanna leaned forward slightly in her chair. "What brings you here today, Beverly?"

Beverly looked down at her hands in her lap and shook her head. She looked up again. "I don't know, really…so much has happened recently. I uh…I am still coping with what happened to Wesley, and Allen's death…."

"You experienced several traumatic events recently, Beverly. You're feelings of uncertainty are quite natural," Deanna said gently. She brightened. "But you also have good news: Wesley has made a full recovery and has been promoted to full Ensign." Beverly smiled at that. "And you have embarked on a new relationship," Deanna added.

Beverly straightened. "It's not common knowledge yet, is it? Although I am sure the rumor mill is turning away."

Troi laughed. "I am sure that not _everyone_ on board is aware that you and Captain Picard are now involved. Not yet at least," she added with a small smile. "How are things going?"

"With me and Jean-L-the Captain?" she corrected. Deanna's mouth twitched, but she kept her smile in check.

"Overall, to be honest with you, it is wonderful," admitted Beverly looking mildly embarrassed.

"I was going to say, you looked quite radiant when you came into my office a few minutes ago."

Beverly laughed and then brought her hand to her lips. "Yes, the whole thing is so surprising for both of us, and I feel…very happy most of the time."

"Well, it _is_ a new relationship, which can be exhilarating."

"Yes, it is new. But we've known each other for so many years, that the uneasiness of that history sometimes gets in the way."

Deanna leaned back in her chair. "Is he also aware of this complication?"

Beverly nodded. "Yes, I think he is really trying…we both are."

Troi smiled gently. "That sounds very promising then." Beverly returned her smile but then looked away. Deanna felt some kind of troubled emotion. "What is it Beverly?"

"Something so strange happened earlier today in sick bay. He had that horrible headache…remember at the ceremony on Vidian IV?" Deanna nodded yes. "And so he agreed to allow me to run a brain scan. Anyway, there was a moment when—when he looked like someone else who didn't even know me. Deanna, it frightened me."

Beverly looked as though she was re-living the shock of that moment so thoroughly, that Troi got up from her seat and comforted her friend.

* * *

**Louisiana, 1881**

Guinan awoke and it was wet and dark all around her. There was a sucking sound as she sat up, pushing her hands into the squishy surface beneath her. She wiped vegetable-like substance from her eyes and nose before taking a deep breath. Thank goodness the atmosphere was breathable. The strange musical language of what she assumed was some species of insect surrounded her. The tiny universal translator attached to her wrist failed her on this one.

Hopefully it would aid her communication better with the humanoid inhabitants she needed to interact with in order to reach her goal. She had attempted a crash course in the language of the dominant inhabitants of this region, but hadn't had time to master anything but the basics. In any case the sound of the chirping creatures was quite pleasant and set her mind at ease, reminding her of a similar species on her home planet.

But where was she? Her grandmother's map wasn't perfectly accurate; that much she had learned in the past few decades, on this sometimes seemingly endless quest. She knelt down on one knee and took a tiny square of cloth out of her pocket. It immediately unfolded into a glowing star map. She touched it to focus in on a star system, then on eight planets orbiting a gorgeous orange-hued sun.

If her grandmother's calculations were right, this was where the last piece was said to be located. There had been only three for her to locate, according to her grandmother.

She got to her feet and took a few paces. There were immense twisting trees all around her in the dark. She adjusted the instrument on her wrist and a pale light emitted from several points on it, allowing her to at least see her feet in the vast darkness. Suddenly, a great thumping sound reverberated underneath her feet and she heard voices. The voices were not close enough for the translator to decipher what they were saying. She hid down in the roots of a giant tree, and watched as the thumping grew so loud that she felt it in her bones. Whatever was approaching was in possession of a light source of some kind, and now feeling a palpable sense of fear, she shut off the light on her wrist.

The pounding slowed and she could now see them approaching. Four immense creatures with semi-circular feet, four legs, and muscular bodies trotted past her hiding spot. On top of each of the creatures sat a humanoid shape—two legs, from what she could see. The clothing adorning each of the humanoids was identical and was pure white. Their faces, if they had them, were hidden by strange pointed coverings—hats of some kind, which were also white in color.

One of the humanoids held a light of some kind, and he lowered it in a sweeping motion in front of him as though he were looking for something. And then suddenly she felt very strongly that she hoped he was not looking for her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"LaForge, I will need you to write a report on the Borg propulsion technology, which as we have seen is far advanced beyond our own. It is where we understand them least, and our lack of knowledge in this area is to our great disadvantage."

LaForge nodded.

"I have already asked Data and Doctor Crusher to provide me their assessment of the cybernetic features of the Borg," the Captain continued.

"Just to re-emphasize, this is a conference designed to share intelligence on the Borg," said Picard, wrapping up the briefing. "We aren't there to make friends, by any means, but tolerance must always be on our minds," said Picard.

Worf had been silent for most of the briefing, and suddenly looked as though he could no longer restrain his frustration. "I will _never _trust the Romulans!" he blurted out.

Picard stood up and glared down at the Klingon. It was not news that Klingons hated Romulans and vice versa. "Mr. Worf, we all must struggle to overcome our prejudices…and you are no exception," he said stonily. He leaned over with his palms on the table. "That said I personally do not care if you _ever_ trust the Romulans. But at that conference I expect you to comport yourself with the utmost professionalism—as you always have. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," replied Worf immediately, but his eyes were still fiery.

Picard straightened and smoothed the front of his uniform. "Good," he said sounding satisfied enough. "Please prepare a report on the Borg tactical systems—and one on the Romulan tactical systems as well—in case your distrust proves justified," he added. As far as he was concerned, based on his limited contact with Romulans, anything could happen. "Dismissed," he said to his officers, who all rose from the table.

LaForge and Worf exited quickly, but Riker stayed behind. He watched the Captain carefully. "Sir, are you sure you're alright?" The Captain had seemed short of breath but very healthy when he entered the conference room about an hour ago. Now though, Riker noticed the man's face appeared more gaunt, and his usually hardy skin tone had paled somewhat.

Picard gave him a small smile. "Of course, Commander…I am fine." They glanced behind them as the door opened and Data entered, stepping smoothly over to the Captain. Something very subtle about Picard's expression changed when he saw Data, and to Riker it seemed a bit strange.

Data halted in front of the Captain. "Sir, you had asked me to report here so that I might test your artifact," Data reminded him, perhaps in his own way reading the same expression on Picard's face.

Picard seemed to force out a little laugh, which also was quite unlike him. "Ah yes," he said as though he had forgotten. He reached into a pocket and opening his palm, revealed a small black stone. He glanced at Data and then hesitated looking at the stone again. Data held out his hand patiently, and at that moment, Picard froze in mid-gesture.

The voice whispered through his mind again, and this time although most of the language was still indecipherable, he understood one word: _enemy_. Data's face and body were instantly transformed into a Borg's, and his eyes now appeared lifeless. The bodies of his comrades and enemies lay on a vast grey battlefield. Was he the only one left alive? Picard took a step backward as the Borg advanced on him, the bright blue electrical charge of its prosthesis reaching for the artifact….

"No!" Picard shouted, stepping backward and clasping the artifact in his fist, holding it tightly against his chest.

Riker put a concerned hand on the Captain's shoulder. "Sir!" he said, gripping Picard's shoulder, trying to steady him. The Captain appeared to be in some kind of trance-like state.

Instantly, Picard seemed to snap out of it, and shook his head in confusion. He looked at the officer in front of him, and recognized him to be Lt. Commander Data. He slowly dropped his hand, and nodding slightly as if trying to reassure himself it was the right thing to do, he gave the artifact to Data. Then abruptly, without another word, and before Riker could stop him, he stepped away and left the room swiftly.

* * *

**Louisiana 1881**

Guinan thought the strangers clad in white robes had moved on, and so finding a path she wound through the trees careful to move her feet softly through the underbrush. She had to find someone she could communicate with; someone friendly who could point her in the right direction. _The teachings tell us the last missing piece of the Other can be found on the planet E-arth, where the inhabitants are said to resemble our kind physically, but they are far, far different._ Her grandmother's voice continued to drift in her mind almost fifty cycles after her passing.

By reading the old texts herself, Guinan had learned that the third piece of the Other had passed through the planet E-arth at some time in the year she was now present. The specific place she knew from the texts was called _Mo__ʼȯ__hta-vo__ʼ__hon__á__aeva, _which she could only hope was a well-known area on the planet. The texts said that the piece passed through Moʼȯhta-voʼhonáaeva in this year,after which the trail went cold—the piece disappeared. This meant she must find it quickly.

Unfortunately, the combination of the old texts being incomplete, and the inaccuracy of her grandmother's map, may have caused her coordinates to be off. She couldn't know really, unless she found some kind of indicator or was able to communicate with some of the inhabitants. Her desperation caused her to reconsider her attempt at hiding. If she was to find the piece and transport it safely to Orla, her mind had to be free of fear and mistrust. So against her instincts she began to pursue the beings she had previously hidden herself from.

* * *

After Data departed for his lab, Riker tapped his communicator. "Riker to Doctor Crusher," he said tensely.

"_Crusher here. What can I do for you, Commander?"_

He hesitated. He didn't want to alarm her. "You haven't by any chance seen Captain Picard in the last five minutes have you?"

There was a pause. _"No…is everything alright?"_

"To be honest with you, I'm not sure. We just ended a briefing and the Captain had a moment where…well he didn't seem quite himself. He left here before I could find out if he was alright. I just thought you should know."

"_Thanks, Will…the computer says he's in his quarters. I'll go and find him there."_

"Alright," replied Riker. "If you need me for anything-anything at all, Beverly, please call me, I'll be on the bridge."

"_Understood. Crusher out." _Although her reply was simple, he could hear the appreciation in her voice. He had stopped just short of telling her to be careful. The idea that he might ever need to say such a thing when referring to Captain Picard, was highly unsettling.

* * *

Guinan reached the edge of a wooded area and saw the beings of E-arth ahead of her trotting along in a clearing full of grass and flowers. She checked her two-way universal translator to make sure it was working properly, and when satisfied it was, stepped out of the woods and hailed the beings. "Greetings," she called out. One of the white pointed hats turned to look in her direction. He cried out and then pointed at her. The voices of the beings clamored as they reared up on the four legged beasts one by one and then galloped in her direction. Silently reminding herself again of her goal, she stood her ground despite the thunderous commotion as they approached.

"Hello," she said again, as the group stopped near her.

"What you doin' out here, girl?" said one of the beings, as it leaned down to get a better look at her. Now closer, she could see there were crude eye holes cut into the fabric of its mask. There was also a strange red and white emblem on the breast of its robe consisting of a geometrical figure with two intersecting bars, one horizontal and one vertical. This must be the leader, she guessed, and focused her attention on him. "And alone too…." said the leader.

"Up to no good, I'd wager," another said.

Guinan stepped forward, and the beings looked at one another in mild surprise. "I was hoping you could help me. I'm looking for a place," she ventured. "It's called Moʼȯhta-voʼhonáaeva."

The white hooded figures looked at one another again in confusion. The four-legged creatures they rode stomped their funny looking feet and snorted. Was the translator working properly? Maybe her pronunciation of "Moʼȯhta-voʼhonáaeva"was off. Perhaps she should attempt to communicate with the four-legged creatures instead. One of the horses, as she would later learn they were called, blinked its big brown eyes and long eyelashes at her. So far, she noted, it was the most pleasant inhabitant of this planet she'd met.

"_Help_ you?" The leader leaned down again and she could now see steely blue eyes staring at her from inside the cloth mask. "Why you are in the wrong neighborhood, to be _helped_." He nodded his head in another direction. "Now get on your way before your folks wonder why you gone missing, child."

She was suddenly aware of the small but powerful disruptor hidden inside her boot. "I'm just passing through this area," she informed them. "I am trying to find a place called Moʼȯhta-voʼhonáaeva," she repeated. "Will you tell me where it is?" she asked slowly. The conversation was not proving to be as fruitful as she had expected, and the fearful feeling in her gut returned.

"Ain't no such place as _that_," said one of the beings, sounding genuinely puzzled. "Least… not around here."

"Look here, this ain't your side of town and it sure as hell ain't no 'Moho—'whatever-you-called-it," said the leader. "Bad things can happen when you stray from where you're meant to be," said as though counseling her. He gestured to one of his compatriots who rode forward. A coil of rope sat lazily on his thigh. He held a long instrument made of metal and some kind of wood. He swung the pointed end at her, and she was now almost certain it was a type of weapon.

She considered the disruptor again. Just as she reached for it, one of the beings took the long metallic-wooden staff he had been pointing at her, and turned it around, so that the broad end was pointed at her. She froze, unsure if the being was attempting to show her he meant no harm. Without hesitation, and before she could get out of the way, he slammed the butt of the rifle into her forehead, and darkness overtook her.

* * *

Picard had only just reached his quarters when the headache hit him fully. Ducking inside the door before a passing crewman noticed his pained expression he grabbed both sides of his head and staggered toward his bed. He could not stop the pain, and could not escape the sinister whispering voice invading his mind. Was he going mad? He wished the artifact was in his possession still, because he knew somehow that the headache at the very least would lessen. Why was this happening?

He kicked off his boots and then crawled into bed with his uniform on. He wanted to sleep suddenly more than anything, but if he closed his eyes would he see the Borg again? Why was he hallucinating?

"Jean-Luc? Jean-Luc?" It was Beverly's voice from the living room, sounding worried. A wave of embarrassment came over him. He didn't want her to see him this way. He wanted to be strong. Feeling nauseous he pulled the blankets over his head and curled into the fetal position. Shutting his eyes he saw thousands of dead bodies. An old man sat on a blackened and burnt throne surveying the carnage. "Jean-Luc." His eyes snapped open again and he was back in his quarters. Beverly tugged the blanket away from his face. She looked frightened. He opened his eyes just enough to see her and then closed them again, making a grunting sound.

She knelt down beside the bed. "Oh honey, what's wrong?" she felt his head. "You've got a fever," she said. "What about the headache? Is it back?" He nodded slowly.

She stood up. "This is starting to really worry me. I'm going to get you to sick bay."

"No," he whispered. "I don't feel that I can move. I just want to lay here."

She didn't look pleased, but nodded. "Alright…is there anything I can get for you? Some water?" He shook his head no.

"I'm going to stay you know. So don't try to get rid of me," she warned him.

"I don't want you to see me like this," he mumbled.

"Like what? Vulnerable? You're not indestructible, Jean-Luc." He made a face. "Oh, I can see I have insulted you," she said with gentle sarcasm. She pulled the covers up over his shoulder. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Where's the rock—I mean the artifact?"

"With Data," he muttered.

"Did the headache worsen after you gave it to him?"

"Yes."

She sighed and gazed down at him. The truth was she had finished reviewing the brain scan results and they had been completely inconclusive. But she wasn't going to tell him that now, when he was so obviously in pain. She pulled off her boots and placed them next to his on the floor. Then she lifted the covers and got in next to him putting her arm around his waist. He held her hand and she rested her forehead on his back. Within minutes they were both asleep.

* * *

**Hello, so you may be wondering why Picard is suddenly seeing Borg everywhere. This is set pre- Best of Both Worlds so he has had no traumatic experiences with them yet. Anyway, I promise it will make sense later on in the story, so I hope you keep reading. Take care. -PP**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**Louisiana 1881**

The language was a jumble. The fact that the translator was still working was no less amazing to her in that moment than that she remained alive. Finally she heard something that made sense to her.

"She's stirring," said a female voice. There was movement out of her right eye. Her left eye was blind—or at least would not open. Cool hands touched her face, then let go.

Footsteps shuffled nearby and sounds became louder. Something wet and cool, smelling like herbs was placed over the left side of her face. A male voice spoke close to her ear. "What is your name?"

Guinan mumbled something in answer, but wasn't sure if it even made any sense.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Four hundred and eighty-six," she mumbled.

"She's delirious," he said. "Talking nonsense."

"It's a good thing you found her when you did, doctor," said the woman again. "Lord only knows what would have happened."

"You shouldn't have moved her," another male voice rumbled, entering the room. "If the Klan left her there it was to make an example of her. Who knows what she done to get her into this mess."

"What she _done_?" asked the female voice. "Willie, you know the only thing she probably done is be black and lost on the wrong side of the creek."

Willie grumbled something and walked away, and Guinan heard the sound of someone sitting down heavily. "As soon as you can see to her, Doc, I want her out of this house before she brings the devil down upon us," said Willie's voice from a corner.

"I don't want to be any trouble to you," Guinan said. "I'm just trying to find a place, and no one seems to know what I'm talking about," she said, attempting to sit up. A pair of strong hands pushed her back down. The vision out of her good eye cleared somewhat and she could see several brown faces looking down at her.

The male closest to her had a pair of circular lenses made of transparent material covering his eyes. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was holding a strange bag with handles. He gently prodded the herbal poultice which was slowly drying on her face. He took out a brownish bottle of something and poured some clear, sharp smelling liquid into a white piece of cloth before wiping it along the side of her face.

"You see she don't have no sense, Mae," said Willie to his wife. "Askin' the Klan for directions…where you from girl? Where's your husband?"

Guinan laughed at that. "I don't have a husband," she said.

"Well then, where's your daddy?" Willie asked from his chair in the corner.

Guinan settled back onto a semi-soft pillow. Her head and jaw were very painful, and talking didn't improve matters. Her father had forbid her from using the device, but she had a task to complete. _I have to find the third piece, _she reminded herself. "He's far, far away," she said simply. She watched with her right eye as Willie got up and moved to a square opening in their dwelling. He bent his large frame and was looking outward.

The woman, Mae sat down beside her and took her hand. The roughness of the woman's hand reminded her of her grandmother. "Where you from child?" Mae asked gently.

Guinan thought a moment, and then jerked her thumb upward. Mae nodded and laughed glancing over her shoulder at her husband. "She says she's from up north, Willie. No wonder she don't know what she's doin'."

"I told you, she is delirious," the man with the transparent lenses said seriously, straightening his thin form and stepping backward.

"Well, she's lucky," said Mae. "Because if you hadn't found her lying on the dusty road like that doctor, I just don't know."

The doctor closed his bag and nodded silently, once again glad he had seen the dusty figure lying on the side of the road. He knew he hadn't been the first to come upon the anonymous woman, but fear had no doubt caused many to pass her by. Indeed from a distance she had appeared dead.

"Yes you _do_ know, Mae," said Willie, tearing himself away from watching vigilantly out the window. "We all know," he said. He took his shotgun and propped it against his knee as he sat back down.

* * *

**Somewhere on an open plain…**

_He was running at top speed. All around him his warriors wielded deadly weapons with expert skill, clearing the way for him. Soon the enemy would be defeated and he would have only one task left. The enemy pursuing him fired another blast from the cannon attached to its arm. The Borg was plodding, slow, like all of the rest had been. No challenge for him and his warriors, even with their less sophisticated weapons. But he was growing tired of this game, because his real goal was in sight. The fortress lay ahead of him just meters ahead. His Borg enemy still pursued him, and a bolt of blue electricity shot past his head singeing the side of his head. _

_Stopping short suddenly, he spun and swung the long blade over his head and it clanged against a long metal spike protruding from the Borg's arm. The Borg's spike slipped as he spun and it sliced into his neck, through his shoulder blade and down the length of his back with almost agonizing slowness. He screamed in pain and in anger and with a sweeping circular motion, sliced down decapitating the Borg. He stood and waited for the glorious voice to begin speaking to him, as it always did.  
_

"_Now," the voice boomed. "You must gather an army at my feet. And then you must kill the Old King. You must take his place."_

* * *

When Beverly awoke, Jean-Luc had already gotten up. What time was it? She sat up in bed and looked down at her rumpled uniform. It had been late afternoon when they had fallen asleep together in his quarters. She wasn't even sure if she was supposed to be on shift. "Computer, what time is it?" she asked groggily.

"1800 hours," replied the computer blandly. It was dinner time.

Beverly shrugged and yawned as she sat up and looked around the Captain's bedroom. Sparse would be a more than accurate description of his room. Aside from several books stacked neatly on a night table, the room held only a few personal effects. She wondered how he would respond to the introduction of some flowers. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and then shook her head, puzzled by her own idea. Then she caught the scent of something wonderful. She rubbed her eyes, and pulled on her boots, now awake because of the delicious smell of food. She walked out of the cramped room.

The Captain was standing near a small dining table that was nearly spilling over with food. Breakfast foods to be exact. He smiled looking completely invigorated. He took her hand and kissed her affectionately before pulling out a chair for her to sit down in.

"I hope you don't mind, I cooked you breakfast." He grinned widely. "I thought that since we've missed a number of breakfasts together lately I should make it up to you. Even if it is time for dinner," he added.

She sat down slowly, somewhat stunned by both the gesture and his newly cheerful disposition. Just hours ago he had looked so ill. "You _cooked_?" She looked up at him questioningly.

He nodded and began serving her. "Well...not _everything_—most of it I replicated. But I did make you some crepes the old fashioned way," he said sounding rather pleased with himself as he sat down across from her.

"Jean-Luc Picard cooking breakfast...you never said you could cook," she said with more amusement than accusation.

"Beverly," he said with a charming smile. "Perhaps you don't quite know _everything_ about me." He poured coffee into her cup, keeping his gaze fixed upon hers.

"Well..." She admitted, returning his smile. "Maybe I don't. But I have to say I could grow to like this side of you, Jean Luc. I really could."

He smiled back at her and then proceeded to eat without further comment for the next ten minutes, as though he hadn't eaten in days. Periodically he paused only to ask her if she would like more to eat, before returning to his feast.

By his third helping she had grown thoroughly suspicious. By his fourth, she was concerned. "You've got _quite_ the appetite. What's gotten into you?"

He looked at her with his cheeks bulging, and slowed his frenzied chewing. He shrugged. "I don't know," he said, his eyes widening as though he were confused. He put his fork down. "I'm just…famished." He wiped his chin with a cloth napkin. "I apologize for my manners, Beverly."

"It's alright, Jean-Luc. It's just that when we lay down for a nap just a few hours ago, you were so- well you were in a great deal of pain." She leaned forward with her hands clasped on the table top. "And now… you look terrific and you just ate more in one sitting than two Klingons."

He said nothing, but dropped his napkin on his plate. He stared down at the table, and she could tell he was trying to think the whole thing through. She wanted him to know that she would help him think it through; she would help him to figure out what was wrong. She didn't want him to be afraid to allow her to help him. She hesitated. "Jean-Luc, Will said when Data arrived to pick up the artifact you had a moment where you didn't seem yourself. Do you know what he meant by that?"

"Nonsense," he said, sounding embarrassed. He stood up from the table abruptly and began clearing dishes. "Will Riker can be the biggest mother hen when it comes to my safety, you know that, Beverly. He's overreacting, that's all. I've had this blasted headache, and perhaps I appeared fatigued."

She stood up and watched him as he gathered the dishes into his arms, balancing too many at once. "And how's the headache now?" she asked him carefully as he walked to the waste receptacle.

He turned back around and smiled at her. "Gone…I feel absolutely wonderful, Beverly. I can't even tell you…."

"Try," she suggested with an encouraging smile. "Try to tell me. I'm listening, Jean-Luc."

His smile wavered. "I feel fine," he said. He turned back around as though he had forgotten something, and that is when she saw it. Instinctively concerned, she walked toward him, but he turned back around to face her.

"Jean-Luc, turn around for me again. There's something on the back of your neck…are you hurt?"

He frowned. "Of course not," he said, but when she continued to stare resolutely at him, he finally acquiesced, turning back around. She sucked in an alarmed breath. There was an ugly looking vertical wound on his neck, partially healed. It disappeared beneath his collar, and she immediately began to lift the back of his uniform.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, sounding rather annoyed. "I told you, I'm fine."

"You don't feel that then?" she said, trying to keep her voice calm as she rolled up his uniform in the back.

"No," he said. "Just a slight itching."

She delicately touched along the edge of the coagulating gash that ran from his neck, into his shoulder blade and down the length of his back to the right of his spine. "Jean-Luc, you're injured. It's healing—but what on earth happened to you?"

He turned back around and looked at her as though she were crazy. His voice was low as if trying to reason with her. "Beverly, need I remind you that I've hardly been out of your sight today. You touched me there earlier when we were together and there was certainly nothing wrong with my back then. This afternoon I fell asleep. Surely you don't think something happened to me while I was sleeping! You were right there with me, after all."

She put her arms around his waist and looked into his eyes. "Jean-Luc…I don't know what to think. But this is bizarre. Let me clean it and start a derma repair at least," she said. He nodded slightly, but something about his expression when he looked at her unsettled her. She patted him on the chest and then kissed him lightly on the lips. She remembered she had left her med kit in the bedroom. "Wait here," she said quietly, and gave him another kiss before leaving the room.

When she returned just moments later, he had gone.

* * *

Mae squeezed Guinan's hand. "Doctor Green is the only black doctor in three counties, and a good one too. So you real lucky, let me tell you," the woman told her again.

"Black?" Guinan asked.

Willie suddenly broke out into laughter. "I'll say she's delirious, she forgot she was black."

Guinan blinked, not having a clue what he was talking about. "Look," she said tiredly. "I am very grateful you saved me from those criminals, but I am just trying to find a place. It's called Moʼȯhta-voʼhonáaeva."

Willie got up and walked over to where Guinan lay resting. "Say what? Mo-ho…?" He stared at her. "Wait a minute, Mae. Go and get Granny."

Mae sighed. "Why you always think Granny can translate anything sounds just a little bit Indian? Don't wake the children," she added with a warning. But Willie had already disappeared into the only other room in the house. A few moments later he re-emerged arm in arm with a stooped figure with tan skin and very white hair. He sat the old woman down next to Guinan's bedside. The doctor stood looking skeptical.

"This is my Granny," Willie said, placing a steadying hand on the woman's shoulder. "Say the word again," he prompted.

Guinan said hello to the woman, who smiled widely in response, but her eyes did not focus on any one point. Willie said "Granny can't see a thing, but her hearing is real sharp," he reassured her and then nodded again for Guinan to speak.

"Moʼȯhta-voʼhonáaeva," said Guinan. The woman's smile faded into her wrinkled face, and she grew contemplative.

Willie seemed anxious and he rubbed his grandmother's shoulders expectantly. Finally she spoke. "When I was younger I spent some time on a reservation as my daddy was a Blackfoot Indian got caught up in some mess and landed on the reservation. Cold as all get out up there and there was a whole mess of different Indian folk up there. We near starved up on that reservation. My daddy played cards with a Cheyenne fella…yep that's Cheyenne alright," said Granny. She fell silent a few more moments, deep in thought.

"Moʼȯhta-voʼhonáaeva…Black…h…Black Hills, that's right," she said breaking into a smile again. "That's the place the whites call the Black Hills," she said, sounding satisfied that she had been able to assist.

Willie stood up straight and looked at the doctor who shook his head. "The Black Hills are too far up north and in the middle of nowhere for any colored person to reach from here—safely that is. There is a gold rush in that land right now and it's likely to be full of thieves, murderers and worse looking for their share of glory," said Doctor Green.

"Hmph," said Willie. "You lookin' for gold?" he said fixing Guinan with a suspicious look.

"What about cousin Rob?" Mae asked. "He's a porter on the railroad. He'd know how to get her up there by train," she said. "Take a while though."

Guinan frowned. "What's a train?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

His mind was slightly hazy; a state he hoped would be corrected once he had the artifact back. He just needed to see it, and then he could return to duty on the bridge. He just needed to see it and then he would feel fine. Despite what he had told Beverly, which of course had been the truth at the time, the wound on his back was beginning to sting and burn a great deal. He tried to focus…he had been with Beverly in his quarters. He so enjoyed her company…indeed he loved her. But then…he had left her under circumstances he couldn't quite remember. Would she be angry with him? He couldn't be sure, because he couldn't even remember actually saying goodbye to her when he left. _"The woman is holding you back,"_ the voice whispered. He ignored it.

As he neared his destination he struggled to keep himself calm, but he felt almost breathless with anticipation as he walked through the corridors of the Enterprise. He paused and looked from right to left before entering the lab. No one was around—not that it mattered—it was his ship, after all. Then why did he feel as though he was sneaking about?

To his dismay, Data was inside the lab when he walked in. The voice floated slowly from the back of his brain. An ancient language he could not comprehend. Then like a bolt of electricity he heard it clearly: _"Kill the enemy...kill the Borg..."  
_He took a step forward then as if compelled. He didn't want to kill the person standing in front of him. The wound on his neck began to burn more insistently and he felt dizzy. He reached up to his neck and his hand came away covered in blood.

Data turned to look at him quizzically. "Captain Picard… I was not expecting you sir. I have finished the tests you ordered, sir."

"_If he resists you must kill him,"_ the voice said. Picard put his shaking hand behind his back. What was happening to him? Was he losing his mind? "And…what…what did you find?" he said trying to keep his voice even. His face was suddenly covered in sweat, and he blinked it out of his eyes. A jagged streak of white hot pain trailed from his neck down his back. _"You must keep it in your possession at all times. Without it, you will succumb to your wounds_," the voice whispered.

Data took the small black stone out of a small transparent container and held it delicately between two fingers. He walked over to the Captain. "After a number of tests measuring the composition of the artifact, including a comparative battery of tests which-"

"Data, please," said Picard quickly. _Just give me the stone, _he said silently."Just come to the point," he said aloud.

Data nodded. "Captain, are you injured?" he asked curiously. He had not noticed immediately, but now he could see that the Captain appeared to be bleeding from his neck.

"No," Picard said quickly, his gaze flicking to the stone in Data's grasp. _"Snap his neck,"_ whispered the voice. _"I have made you strong."_ Picard shook his head distractedly.

Data moved closer. "Captain I believe you are mistaken," he insisted. "You appear to have an open wound right here," he said raising his hand to point at Picard's neck. The Captain's hand snaked out to grab Data's wrist. Data tried to pull his arm back, but remarkably he was unable to do so. "Captain, your conduct is highly concerning. Are you unwell?"

Picard stared at Data as his fingers sunk into the android's wrist. "_Goddamn _you Data…give me the stone!" He said through gritted teeth.

"Sir, your behavior suggests obsessive personality traits that are highly unusual for you, sir. In addition, your physical strength is currently far greater than normal. Does that not seem odd to you, sir?"

"_He is playing with your mind. Trying to take the stone for himself,"_ the voice warned him. Picard increased his grasp on Data. "I'm warning you, Data. I don't want to hurt you…."

"At this moment, I think it would be unwise for me to give you the stone until you have ceased your aggression sir." Data closed the stone in his fist to attempt to keep it from Picard, but Picard's grip tightened mercilessly on his wrist. While Data did not experience pain as such, he did recognize when his operating systems were under distress. However, he did not predict the extent to which the Captain would or could harm him, until he felt the servo motors inside his arm begin to rupture. Suddenly Data's fingers opened involuntarily and the stone dropped to the floor.

The Captain immediately let go, and scrambled to the floor, grabbing the artifact. Data moved back, legitimately sure that he had not predicted such a turn of events. He watched as the Captain crouched down on the floor clutching the stone almost desperately. Gradually the bloody stripe on his neck faded to a thin, dark line, until it was completely healed. The tight muscles in his back visibly relaxed, and his breathing slowed. He stood up and then turned to face Data.

Data stood examining his arm. There was a bloody hand print on his pale wrist and clear indentations from Picard's fingertips in his synthetic skin. "Data…did I—did I do that to you?" A look of shocked horror passed over Picard's face.

"Yes." Data said simply. A blank expression crossed the Captain's face before he backed up slowly and then exited the room without another word.

* * *

"Status," said Picard when he walked on to the bridge.  
Riker stood up and turned to look at the Captain. His eyes narrowed slightly. "We are en route to Kronos as ordered sir. At warp six we are scheduled to arrive in 11 hours, sir."

Picard nodded curtly and took his seat in the command center. "Very good, Number One. Let's maintain that course and speed."

"Aye sir." Riker remained standing and looked down at Picard with concern. He lowered his voice. "Captain, are you alright, sir?"

Picard frowned and looked up at him, then he smiled slightly, as if placating his worried first officer was just another of his many duties. "My headache is gone, if that's what you mean. I appreciate your concern, Number One," he said turning his attention to a report from LaForge on his armrest console.

Riker sat down slowly. "Sir...you're not scheduled for bridge duty for another thirteen hours," Riker reminded him. Picard remained silent and kept his eye on the report, occasionally tapping his console.

"Captain..."

Picard looked up sharply with his piercing gaze. "What?"

"Doctor Crusher called up here about twenty minutes ago looking for you, Captain. She said you were injured..."

"Well Mr. Riker it's a good thing for both of us that your duties don't include giving me a physical."

"But don't you think you should report to sick bay sir?"

Picard made an incredulous face. "For _what_ purpose? I feel like a new man." He returned to his report.

Riker looked at Picard closely. Crusher had said she had seen a knife wound on the back of his neck, but Riker couldn't see anything obvious from this angle.

Riker hit his communicator. "Riker to Crusher."

_"Crusher here."_

"Doctor, Captain Picard is here on the bridge now. And he reports that he is feeling fine."

_"I'm on my way"_ said Crusher.

"For what Doctor?" Picard snapped. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with me."

"_We'll see. I'm coming to the bridge."_

Picard jerked his head to look over at Riker as though silently accusing him of a betrayal he would not soon forget.

Riker raised an eyebrow, but then turned his gaze forward, thinking it wise not to say anything more for a while.

* * *

**One Hour later…**

Riker paced back and forth in Data's quarters. Data had just finished explaining what had occurred earlier in his lab, and now sat carefully repairing the inside of his wrist with a tiny tool. Riker could not believe what he had heard, much less seen in the last few hours. Doctor Crusher and Lt. Commander Data both reporting a mysterious injury on Picard's neck and back which had now by all accounts disappeared now that the small stone-like artifact was back in his possession. Data had shown him his damaged wrist, which Data said the Captain had caused.

Doctor Crusher was at least attempting to examine Captain Picard in his ready room, and was due to report back to Riker any minute now. Had he known what had happened to Data before now, Riker would not have allowed Crusher to go in there alone. But he hoped that given the relationship between Crusher and Picard, she would be safe. Captain Picard was still on the bridge, and for now, Riker was glad for it. He needed to figure out what to do next without causing a scene.

He turned as Doctor Crusher entered Data's quarters. She looked tired and perplexed. "Why all the secrecy?" she asked.

Riker nodded to Data. "Show her."

Data stood up and held out his wrist. "Captain Picard damaged the servo motors in my left wrist."

Beverly laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement coming from Data. "How? Why?" she demanded.

"He used his physical strength, squeezing my wrist in his right hand."

She laughed again, but began to feel frightened. "That's crazy, Data! No one on this ship—not even Worf is strong enough to inflict that kind of damage on you."

Data tilted his head slightly and regarded her seriously. "Nevertheless, I am telling the truth, Doctor," Data insisted calmly. "I believe that he wanted nothing more than for me to give him the artifact. I also observed the same occurrence you reported to Commander Riker—that Captain Picard was at one point seriously injured, and only a short time later, was completely healed. It was only after he regained possession of the artifact that his demeanor returned to normal, and his wound healed. I also noted that he did not seem to recall what he had done, including his violence toward me."

Beverly pressed her lips together. She ran a hand through her hair and sat down tiredly. She didn't know what to think. Aside from her own son, there was no one she trusted more than Jean-Luc, and yet she was now put in a difficult position.

Riker seemed to sense her distress. "Doctor, I'm not suggesting that you declare him unfit for duty. But I do think we need Deanna's input before things get worse. With so much at stake with the mission to Kronos, Admiral Nechayev is going to be completely against removing the Captain from command unless faced with proof that he's unfit."

"And we don't know that he is," Beverly sounding a little more defensive than she intended.

Riker folded his arms over his chest. "Did he allow you to examine him?"

She tapped her tricorder in her open palm. "Yes…reluctantly. But he seemed to want to prove to me that he had been healed." She shrugged, still confused. "And he was right. It was gone."

"And so at least physically he is alright—even exhibiting superhuman strength, at least when he wanted that artifact back from Data."

"Which begs the question, what did your tests reveal, Data?" Crusher asked.

"The object is not a Turellian Agate, as Captain Picard believed when he dug it up on Risa," said Data.

"Did you tell him that?" Crusher asked.

"No. Captain Picard seemed more focused on obtaining the artifact, rather than the specifics of my conclusions."

"So what is it?" Crusher and Riker asked nearly at the same time.

Data paused. "My tests were unfortunately inconclusive. The composition of the object appears natural—that is to say it does not appear to have been constructed by artificial means."

"That's it?" Riker asked sounding disappointed.

"No," replied Data. "I did find traces of something highly unusual however; dark matter."

* * *

True to her word, Mae's cousin Rob had been able to help Guinan secure a job on one of the odd transport ground-level vehicles she learned was called a train. Cousin Rob was a porter on board a railroad line, the type of job he said was almost exclusively reserved for Negro males. A Negro, was, she discovered, what the E-arth people of this region believed she was. On the one hand it was good that her physical appearance fit in so easily with the other humans, just as her grandmother had said she would. On the other hand she was learning quickly that she was by no means safe, either as a Negro, or as an alien visitor on this planet. In any case, the sooner she found the piece of the Other, the better.

After the man she had interviewed with at the "Rock Island" Railroad had examined her hands, circled her a few times and informed her that any items that went missing on the train would be taken out of her pay, she was hired as something called a "maid". She was lucky, Rob had told her proudly, for these jobs were hard to get. She was certainly grateful to Rob, who told her the Rock Island Railroad line would get her as far north as Sioux Falls, South Dakota, which he indicated was only "part o' the way there." She would then have to find another way to travel the rest of the way to her destination in the Black Hills.

Rob, a young enterprising man in his twenties told her his assignment ended in Chicago, which is where he would have to part ways with her. He warned her that the way would be dangerous, and suggested she re-think her journey, but of course she could not.

The first day she was on the train, she had managed to learn most of her duties as quickly as possible. The conductor had indicated there was a number of prominent passengers on this train, and everything had to be kept ship shape so as not to displease them. "Speak only when spoken to," Rob had warned her. "And never look them in the eye. They don't like that."

So on that first day, when she brought fresh linens into the plush Pullman car bringing up the rear of the train, she did not make eye contact with the occupant of the private compartment with the gold inlay on the door. The man sat forward and smoothed his well-groomed beard, watching her carefully with a small smile. Placing the linens down just so as she had been trained to do, and looking around to make sure everything was in order, Guinan backed slowly out of the doorway.

Just then there was a commotion behind her in outside in the passageway. It was one of the conductors. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, red-faced. "The gentleman expressly stated he did not wish to be disturbed today," shouted the conductor.

"Oh," said Guinan, not knowing how exactly she was supposed to respond to this quivering, unattractive human being, who was also her boss.

The conductor grew even more red-faced, shaking his finger at her. "You stupid girl," he shouted. "Why I ought to—"

Guinan's eyes narrowed and she squeezed her hand into a tight fist, picturing it punching into the man's fat face.

Suddenly the passenger had entered the doorway. He was tall and dark-haired with a cunning expression and a look of amusement on his face. "What seems to be the problem here?" he questioned.

"Sir," the conductor sputtered. "This maid was here in your quarters unauthorized sir, and I do apologize—"

"Nonsense," said the man haughtily. "She's perfectly authorized as far as I'm concerned."

"But—but Mr. Q-," protested the conductor, stumbling over his words.

"The name's _Quentin_," the passenger corrected the man looking annoyed now. He snapped his fingers. "Now be gone you wretched little man." Guinan watched with mild satisfaction as the conductor hurried back down the passageway without another word. "Now," said Mr. Quentin. "I believe you and I have business to discuss."

* * *

**Hi, thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

**On board the Romulan Warbird _Tavix_, en route to Kronos**

"Sub-commander Saris, your services are needed," Commander Tomalak said, sitting back in his chair with his hands clasped over his stomach. His expression, she noted was as typically sinister as it was condescending.

She put her hands behind her back. "So you have said, Commander," she replied icily. "But as you are aware my expertise is in engineering. I have never before been asked to provide services as a prostitute."

"As the humans say, 'there is a first time for everything'," said Tomalak slyly. For someone who reputedly hated humans as much as even the most xenophobic Romulans in the Senate, Tomalak was known for quoting human metaphors on a regular basis. "Besides," he added, deciding to throw in a Romulan saying. "'All is done for the good of the Empire'," said Tomalak.

Saris simply stared at a point above Tomalak's shoulder. "And you believe the Enterprise engineer will respond to such…tactics."

"According to Bochra, the Enterprise Chief Engineer, while very skilled and clever is susceptible to emotion."

"As are all humans," said Saris. "Just one of their many weaknesses."

"LaForge had many opportunities to kill Centurion Bochra while they were stranded on Galorndon Core, but he did not. His compassion, as humans call it, will be his downfall again no doubt, when faced with your charms, not to mention your expertise in engineering-to which he will no doubt relate. You will find out what we need to know about the Borg and Federation technology from LaForge."

Saris scowled, but held her tongue. Her cousin, Centurion Bochra had been retrieved from the Enterprise by Tomalak a few months ago, and had paid the price for his cooperation with LaForge when he was executed upon his return to Romulus. "Yes, Commander," she said bowing her head.

* * *

**Enterprise**

"Captain, I need to talk to you," Beverly called to him from down the corridor. Crew members slowed and looked on curiously as she hurried to catch up with Captain Picard.

He halted and turned around. He was tolerant of her yelling at him when they were alone, but really _must_ she do so in public?

"Yes, Doctor, I was just coming from the bridge. What can I do for you?" he asked. Her face was intense as she caught up with him.

Beverly moved out of the way of a passing crewman. "I need to speak with you right now," she said emphatically, but keeping her voice low.

He tried to gauge her mood, but couldn't. She didn't seem angry—yet. "Alright," he agreed. "I was going back to my quarters," he offered. He smiled slightly, hoping that such an invitation might improve her mood this evening. But she didn't respond to the suggestion in the way he had hoped. He saw a hesitation in her eyes, and perhaps something even more distressing. Was it fear?

"No," she said quickly. Seeing the vaguely injured look in his eyes, she reached out to touch his arm. She nodded toward the holodeck. "Let's go in there," she said.

Once inside and surrounded by the familiar gold grid Picard stood looking at Beverly with growing confusion. He waited for her to speak.

She was clearly nervous, but again he had no idea why. "Have you seen Data in the last hour?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "No. Not since I left his lab."

She took a breath to steady herself. "Jean-Luc, I just came from seeing Commander Riker and Data. Data was injured by someone. He said it was you who did it."

Picard shook his head and appeared genuinely shocked. "What? Is he alright?"

She smiled and there was obvious relief in her face. Did she really believe he had harmed Data in some way? "Yes he is going to be fine," she said. "But Jean-Luc…I need to hear it from you. Do you know what might have happened to Data?"

"No! Of course I don't, although it should have been reported to me, dammit. Why am I only just hearing of this?" he demanded.

Beverly took a step backward. "Don't yell at me," she said firmly. He glowered but dropped his gaze and ran a hand over his eyes. She could tell he was attempting to calm himself down. But it didn't cause her to feel any more at ease. "Jean-Luc, how long have we known each other?" she asked.

He frowned, as if puzzled by such an obvious question. "Over twenty years…" he replied.

"And I trusted you enough to ask you about Data without making my own conclusions. You know I couldn't believe you would knowingly do such a thing to Data."

He straightened, feeling grateful for her support. "Yes, thank you, Beverly."

She took his hand and rubbed the back of it softly with her thumb. "So I need you to trust me now, and listen to what I have to say…okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.

"I think that the artifact you picked up on Risa is causing you to do things you would not normally do—"

"Beverly!"

She let go of his hand. "Jean-Luc, you said you would listen to me…."

He quieted and made a gesture as if to tell her to carry on.

"You would not knowingly hurt Data, and I don't think you acted knowingly." She continued. He moved away from her and brought his hand to his forehead again looking confused and pained.

"I—I told you I didn't do it," he muttered.

"Data says the artifact has traces of dark matter. Jean-Luc it's not even _of_ this universe. It's not supposed to be here."

"The tests were inconclusive," he said quietly. "You don't know what it is." He walked all the way to the far wall. He wasn't feeling right. His mind was hazy again. _"The woman is trying to trick you,"_ the voice whispered.

"And neither do you," she reasoned. "Everyone is noticing the change in you, Jean-Luc. Everyone but you."

"Do you want me to give it up?" He exploded, keeping himself plastered to the wall as he screamed at her. "So that you can have your way?" His face contorted and he was almost unrecognizable to her in that moment.

Beverly's eyes widened. "Yes, I want you to give it up, Jean-Luc," she said backing away from him toward the door. When it opened she slipped out, still keeping her eyes fixed on him.

* * *

Picard looked up as Riker entered his ready room. "Ah, Commander…Will, please have a seat."

Riker sat down across from the Captain slowly but his mind was racing. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Picard shut off his computer and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. His expression indicated he regretted having to bring up an uncomfortable subject. But there was something else in the Captain's eyes, something that Will Riker did not recognize. "Commander, we are about to embark on a very risky venture…the Klingons and the Romulans together promise to be a handful to say the least."

"Yes sir," Riker agreed.

"And so I need to know that I can trust my crew," said Picard standing up, tugging at his shirt and walking over to the replicator. "Water," he said and a full glass spun into existence. He drank the entire glass in one swallow and then examined the empty glass as though deep in thought. He turned back around and fixed Riker with a probing stare. "I can trust you, can't I Will?"

Riker shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Where was this coming from? "Yes, of course, sir; without question." He thought that trust was understood. And yet, Picard was suddenly questioning it.

Riker watched as Picard absently rubbed the back of his neck where Beverly had said she had seen an open wound…and yet now there was nothing. "Hmm…yes, without question." His eyes flashed suddenly. "And yet you went behind my back…you accused me of _assaulting _ Data? And you told this to Beverly of all people."

Riker stood up. "Sir, to be fair, I did not accuse you of anything. I simply took a report from Lt. Commander Data in which he said that you injured him sir…in order to obtain the artifact."

_My artifact,_ Picard thought. "And then what?" Picard snapped. "You believed him?" He poked himself in the chest. "You just assumed that I had gone off the deep end, didn't you?"

Riker's jaw tightened. "No sir. But Data doesn't…."

Picard sat down on the edge of his desk almost casually and looked up at Riker. "Data doesn't _what_? Data doesn't lie? You didn't even consider asking my side of the story. Even Data is capable of making a mistake, Riker."

"What _is_ your side of the story, sir?"

Picard straightened and seemed rather pleased for the opportunity to explain himself. "I went to Data's laboratory to retrieve my artifact—he had been testing it. When I arrived, he gave it to me, and then I left." Picard and Riker stared at each other, and it was clear to Riker that it seemed that Picard believed most of what he had just said. Perhaps he really did not remember what had transpired, as Data had suggested earlier. But something about Picard's insistence made Riker think that at least part of the Captain feared that what Riker was suggesting was true.

Riker rubbed his beard. "Sir, with all due respect. Doctor Crusher and I both saw Data's arm. There were two inch deep fingerprint indentations in his wrist. Your blood was on his arm."

The look in Picard's eyes was one of challenge. "Was it even mine? Did you test the blood?"

Riker took a deep breath. "No sir." He deeply respected Picard in a way that bordered on reverence. The truth is he had not truly wanted to know that Captain Picard could be capable of such a thing. Data had been uninterested in pursuing the matter, and so Riker had decided not to say anything to anyone other than Data and Crusher. He could see now that this had been a mistake. Picard would have reacted differently had he confronted him right away.

Picard shook his head. "You know very well that I am not strong enough to inflict that kind of damage on Data. No one on this ship is—aside from Mr. Data himself."

"Under normal circumstances, sir…but maybe something has happened to you sir. Maybe something is changing you, giving you power that you didn't have before."

Picard walked away from Riker and sat down behind his desk. "Thank you for your time, Commander. You are dismissed."

Riker stood for a few more moments feeling helpless before exiting the ready room.

* * *

When Picard arrived at his quarters, he stood silently for a few minutes. Both Beverly and Riker thought he was dangerous. They didn't believe him. He walked over to his personal desk and stared down at it. Everything was in order, just as it always was. But things were not at all in order inside his mind. He placed his palm on the table and an image of Beverly's shocked and frightened face played through his mind. Suddenly he flew into a rage, flipping the desk over, throwing his computer into the wall. Chest heaving, he found his mind was now clearer. He knew what to do now. Beverly had been right. He had to get rid of the artifact. He needed to be free.

He walked into his bedroom and saw it immediately. The small black rock was sitting on his dresser, right next to the mirror. He walked forward and opened a drawer, pulling out a spare combadge. Walking back out to the replicator he replicated a glass of water and then brought it back into his bedroom. The rock was still there. Part of him had expected it to move. He used the sleeve of his uniform to sweep the artifact into the glass of water. Immediately the water swirled with black as though he had dropped old fashioned ink into the glass. His hand shook, and again he questioned what he was about to do. But he had to be resolved. He had to do it. He placed the glass down and then dropped his combadge into the water. "Computer lock onto my coordinates and beam to coordinates 33.2 mark 4." He stepped back and watched with mixed feelings as the glass disappeared into nothingness.

* * *

"_Picard to Doctor Crusher."_ Beverly looked up from her work. An image flashed through her mind of Jean-Luc screaming at her like some kind of monster. She blinked back tears.

"Crusher here," she said.

"_Beverly…are you alone?"_

"Why?" she asked him coldly. She looked over her shoulder, and then felt guilty that she was beginning to feel afraid of him.

"_I—I want to tell you something…."_

"Go ahead," she said. He sounded very sad and almost desperate.

"_First of all, I am truly sorry for the way I acted, for the things I said. I was very wrong, and…and I want you to know I would never hurt you Beverly."_

She walked to the small replicator on the wall. "Tissue," she said, and then dabbed her eyes with it when one appeared.

"_What?"_ he asked.

"Nothing," she said.

"_I also wanted to tell you that I—I got rid of it. Just like you said. Beverly, you were right. It took hold of me somehow. I was becoming someone different. You were so right…."_

She broke into a smile. "You got rid of it? But how do you feel?"

"_Fine, I feel just fine now. I beamed it out into space."_

Despite her happiness, she began to cry again. "I'm very proud of you Jean-Luc. But I have to get back to work now."

"_Alright…thank you for listening," _he said.

* * *

**Several hours later…**

He leaned down and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. She stirred and then turned into his hand pressing her lips against his skin in her sleep. He leaned down and kissed her on her temple, lingering a moment to smell her hair. He felt somewhat guilty for coming into her quarters unannounced, especially with Wesley in the other room. But it had been wrong the way things had been left between them earlier that evening. And he wanted her to wake up so that they could be together, making everything alright again. He did not want to go to sleep.

He traced his hand along the contour of her collarbone. She stirred again and then opened her eyes. For a moment there was a look on her face that sent a shock of pain through his heart. She seemed afraid to find him there. Why was she afraid of him? Something he never would have wished for. He shouldn't have come.

Still not saying a word, she sat up in bed and studied his face in the dark looking into his eyes. He held his breath almost sure she would tell him to leave. But then she put her hands behind his neck and pulled him in for a slow kiss. After a few moments she pulled away and studied his face again.

"I'm sorry, Beverly," he said. "I'm sorry for what I said," he insisted.

She nodded. "I know," she said. She kissed him again, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it to the floor. She moved over in bed and he climbed in beside her, so that everything could be alright again.

* * *

**The next morning…in orbit around Kronos**

Beverly screamed. Professionally she was used to the sight of blood, but not in her bed. And there was so much of it. She pushed herself away from Jean-Luc who lay curled up with his back to her. The wound that had miraculously healed itself and then disappeared was now visible again as though it had just been inflicted, and was bleeding heavily. The sheets were soaked in it as was the front of her nightgown. Frantic she tumbled out of bed and grabbed for her med-kit. Picard grunted and pushed himself to a sitting position, still facing away from her.

"Mom?" Wesley jogged in to her bedroom in his pajamas, stopping short. "Mom! Are you okay?" His mother was shaking almost uncontrollably, grabbing tools from her med kit, while Captain Picard sat naked from the waist up on her bed, and his back was covered in blood.

"Wesley, stay where you are!" Beverly shouted, running back to to Picard.

"But the Captain…."

Picard felt his neck, just seeming to realize that something was wrong, and then turned to regard Wesley, looking somewhat dazed. He put up his blood-stained hand as if to warn the boy off. "Mr. Crusher, please…don't come any closer."

Wesley stood frozen, watching as his mother attempted to close the wound on the Captain's back. It wasn't working, and the wound continued to bleed. He could tell his mother was beginning to grow desperate. "Computer, two to beam to sick bay," she shouted.

* * *

Picard awoke on his side. His right arm was asleep and he felt weak and groggy. He blinked and the lighting confirmed that he was in sick bay. A thick bandage was wrapped around his torso, and his back throbbed. It was the wound. Suddenly his gaze focused on a small table next to the bed. There rested the artifact. The very one which he had transported out into space. It was here.

Just then Beverly Crusher walked into the recovery room. "How are you?" she asked. She looked worried and scared.

"Alright," he mumbled. She had not noticed the presence of the artifact yet.

"Jean-Luc, I have to tell you something. I've tried everything…but I can't stop the bleeding. I can't explain it."

He closed his eyes. "I can. It's the artifact. It's the only thing that will heal this wound."

Her eyes followed his to the table top. A bolt of fear shot through her. How in the hell had it re-appeared? "How do you know?" was all she could manage to get out hoarsely.

"He told me," said Picard weakly. "He told me I cannot give it up without making my wounds worse. He is using it to keep hold of me."

She knelt down beside him. "Who, Jean-Luc? Who is he?"

"I don't know who…or what he is. But he speaks to me. He's inside my mind and he controls my dreams. He makes me fight for him…against his enemies. That is how I came to be wounded."

"Jean-Luc, we can't allow that to happen any longer. We have to find out who or what this is controlling you and we have to _stop_ it."

If he was listening to her, it didn't stop him from reaching out to grab the artifact in his fist. He cried out and then brought it to his chest. Slowly the color flowed back into his skin and his face relaxed. A slow smile stretched his features and he closed his eyes. He sat up and stretched out his arms.

Silently, Beverly moved around behind him and began to unravel the bandages. When she reached the skin on his back, she ran her hand over it disbelievingly. The wound was completely gone.

* * *

Ensign Barnes was exhausted. He wasn't sure why. A few days ago he had been assigned as part of the security detail that would accompany Captain Picard and the away team to Kronos. To say that Barnes was excited and eager to prove himself was an understatement. He was absolutely devoted to Captain Picard, who up until this point had not seemed to notice him. But Captain Picard had chosen him specifically for this mission and he could not have been happier.

So why was he so tired? Last night he had awoken to find himself sleepwalking in his tiny kitchen. He had never sleep walked before, at least as far as he knew. And this morning he had been so sore, it felt like he had just played a game of rugby the night before. He examined the strange bruises on his ribs in the mirror. Every now and then he heard a slight whispering. _"You and others will join your captain to complete my army,"_ the voice told him. _"You will serve him when he ascends to the throne, overseeing my kingdom until the enemy has been defeated."_

He tried to ignore it, and hoped it would go away. He knew if he told anyone about his unexplained bruises and voices in his head, he would be pulled from the away team. So it was that Ensign Barnes decided to go about his day as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

* * *

**Hi, everyone, thanks for your interest and your reviews, which definitely help me to keep writing this story. Hope you enjoy!-PP**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

"If we have business together, this is news to me," said Guinan to the strange man. "Do I know you sir?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Not yet…I mean it doesn't matter. We're meeting now, and it must be for a reason."

Guinan had a bad feeling about this. She remembered what Cousin Rob had said about dealing with the passengers. "Sir, I should be getting back to my work."

The man reached around her and with a long arm gracefully shut the door to his cabin. "You can get back to serving these ignorant savages tea and crumpets, and reinforcing their pathetic illusions of superiority as soon as we're done talking," he said, sounding disgusted.

Guinan's eyes narrowed. "Well, I didn't exactly have my pick of professions, Mister..."

Q smiled. "Quentin," he said helpfully.

"Mister Quentin…you talk of these people as though you are not one of them. How are you any different from the rest of these passengers and their illusions of superiority?"

Q looked completely aghast at her statement. "I will have you know that any beliefs I have relating to my own superiority are hardly pathetic…and they are _certainly_ no illusion."

Guinan backed toward the door. "I see…well, this has been enlightening Mr. Quentin, but as I said, I really must be getting back to work now. The passengers must have their tea and crumpets you know," she added.

Q frowned and stroked his well-groomed facial hair. "Enough with the games, _El-Aurian_."

Guinan froze. "You're not one of these E-arth people then," she said.

Q rolled his eyes again. "It is pronounced _Earth_…and as if it weren't obvious…no of course I'm not one of these _Earth people_," he said, dropping down lazily onto a plush couch and stretched out his long legs. He gestured for her to sit down across from him. "Don't worry by the way…they do get better. Just give them oh…three or four hundred years."

Guinan sat down, now more wary than when she had believed him to be from this planet. "Unfortunately for me, I am a bit short on time," she said. "And I certainly don't have time to wait around for them to become enlightened."

Q leaned back on his couch. "I know how much time you have El-Aurian—"

"My name is Guinan," she said mildly.

"…_and_ I know how much time your people have…and I know why you're here."

"My people…what are you talking about?"

"Oh…don't be so coy, Guinan," Q chastised her gently. "You're here for the shard aren't you? If you've come to find it, you must fear that something truly awful is going to happen to your people in say…75 more of your years or so."

Guinan rubbed her temples. "You have the power to see the future? Will you tell me what you see then?"

"I have the power to see whatever I _want_ to see, and to do whatever I _want_ to do," said Q. "Which to be honest is not always all it is cracked up to be."

"But you won't tell me what happens to my people? My grandmother saw into the future too before she died, and I know that there will be some kind of invasion of my world and I want to prevent it…whatever it is. Please tell me."

Q seemed to think about this for a few moments, but then frowned and shook his head. "No. I won't tell you."

Guinan folded her hands in her lap. It was a method she used to calm herself when she was beginning to get angry. "It seems that omnipotence does not equal compassion," she said. "So if you know all and see all, why are you insisting on doing 'business' with me? What is it you want?"

Q glared at her and sat up straight. "I want to know your intent…once you have located the shard, I want to know what you intend to do with it."

Guinan shook her head in confusion. "I thought you just told me you could see anything you wanted. Why can't you see inside my mind? Why can't you look to the future and determine what I will do?"

Q's face darkened. Clearly he did not appreciate her pointing out potential defects in his abilities. "You have powers of your own…such as they are," he said. "Whether you know it or not, you have defenses which even for me are difficult to see through."

Guinan studied him. "If you know of the object I am seeking then you must also know of the Other. Why should I trust you?"

Q stared at her intensely. "Because I want to prevent his return just as much as you do."

* * *

Wesley walked cautiously into the dining area where his mother sat hunched at the table over a cup of coffee. She was wearing her lab coat, and he knew she had recently returned from sick bay. He could tell she was deep in thought and after what had happened earlier that morning, he didn't want to startle her.

"Mom?"

She turned slightly to look at him through reddened eyes. She dabbed at her nose with a tissue. "Oh hi, honey. Come and sit down," she patted the chair next to her.

He sat down slowly. "Are you sure you don't want to be alone?"

Beverly shook her head and sipped her coffee. "No, I'm glad you're here," she said resolutely. She reached over to take his hand. "No matter what has happened in our lives we've always had each other, Wes. And that means the world to me-especially right now."

"Me too...but Mom are you alright? That was so scary this morning. I'm sorry I froze—I just didn't know what to do to help you."

She sighed and forced a smile. "Wes, you were fine. And I am so sorry that you had to witness that."

Wesley put his elbows on the table. "What exactly...I mean you don't have to tell me everything. But the Captain was..."

"He's going to be alright," she said quickly, but then seemed to re-think her answer. "I mean I _hope_ he is going to be alright. The truth is Wes, after we beamed to sick bay I wasn't able to do anything to heal him. I feel helpless." She smiled weakly. "I'm not used to feeling that way."

"But you said you think he'll be okay..."

Beverly took a deep breath and looked at her son. If she couldn't tell Wesley, who could she tell? So she told him about the artifact and its control over the Captain. She left some of the detail out; Jean-Luc's violent mood swings-her growing fears about being alone with him. There was only so much she was willing to say for fear of frightening her son. After all she was supposed to be his protector, not the other way around. Wesley stared at her silently in shock until she was finished.

"Wow," he said. "So…the artifact is hurting him, but if he separates himself from it, it hurts him even more."

She nodded and then her face grew even more worried if that was possible. "Wesley, I need you to be careful around Captain Picard."

Wesley broke into a nervous smile, which faded slowly as he saw very real concern on his mother's face. "I'm serious, Wesley," she said quietly.

"Mom…its Captain Picard. He wouldn't do anything to hurt me." As nervous as the Captain made Wesley sometimes, he would never expect physical violence from him.

She smiled and took his hand again. "I know he wouldn't Wes. But as I just told you, he is not quite himself right now."

Wesley fell silent and looked down at the table. "What is he going to do to get free from that thing?"

She shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I'm going to have to find a way to help him. Maybe Deanna…maybe she can help me." Wesley nodded and then they both fell silent again.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?" She looked at him tiredly.

"You love him, don't you?"

She wasn't prepared for how that question coming from her son would affect her. She wiped a tear from her eye. "Yes," she said glancing at him, her voice just above a whisper.

"Then you can't give up on him, Mom. He's _still _Captain Picard," Wesley said firmly, as if he knew that would never change.

Despite her gloomy mood she laughed and then leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks. You're a great kid…young man, I mean," she corrected herself. He shrugged and his cheeks flushed red.

She ran a hand through his hair. "Wes…are you okay with…J—with the Captain and me being in a relationship?"

Wesley's blush deepened. He shrugged. "Sure," he said. "I mean…ever since we first came aboard the Enterprise a few years ago and we saw him again, I've wondered I guess…."

Beverly sighed. "Yes. But I know I should have said something to you recently and well…things just happened so quickly—"

Wesley put up his hands. He didn't need any more details. This was his mom of course. "Mom, it's okay. I'm sixteen. I figured it out…." And being sixteen he didn't want too many details about his mother's love life either.

She looked at him and laughed. "Alright. Fair enough."

* * *

Captain Picard straightened out his uniform and quickened his steps once inside the shuttle bay. He felt strong and healthy as he ducked into the shuttle craft. Data and Worf were already there waiting, as were two security officers. What were their names? Oh yes…Barnes and Choi. They looked as bright and prepared as he would expect for such an assignment. He planned on bringing Counselor Troi down to Kronos with them tomorrow. Knowing the Klingons might be suspicious of someone they viewed as attempting to read their minds, he thought he would wait to introduce her.

He resisted asking where Riker was. It was still early. He settled down in the co-pilot seat. Data sat nearby checking his tricorder and nodded at Picard in his usual perfunctory, yet pleasant manner. Picard could not help but glance down at Data's left wrist. It looked fine—all repaired. And yet a very real feeling of guilt crept into his heart. He wouldn't feel that, would he, unless he had actually done something to harm Data?

He put such thoughts out of his mind and his ears perked up as he heard voices outside the shuttle. Commander Riker's head appeared just inside the doorway and he smiled at the Captain. Riker's expression was one of tolerance and sympathy, with some amusement thrown in.

"And then she tells me, 'Geordi I just want to be friends….'" LaForge was grumbling as he climbed into the shuttle craft behind Commander Riker.

"Mr. LaForge, if you wouldn't mind waiting until later to regale us with stories of your romantic adventures, I would like to get underway," Picard said, powering up the thrusters on the shuttle.

"Yes sir," said LaForge, dropping into the pilot's seat next to the Captain.

Riker sat down. "Take us out then, LaForge."

* * *

_The sun caressed her face in the way that could only happen in late spring before the unrelenting power of the sun's rays became oppressive. She lay down on the blanket and put her forearm over her face, beginning to doze. Where had he gone? He said he was just going to go for a quick walk down to the stream. She thought back to what they had been doing just minutes ago and despite the warm air, suddenly had goose bumps. She never wanted to be apart from him again. Not now that they had come so far together. _

_Feeling content and drowsy she began to fall asleep again when she felt a light tickle on her face. She scrunched up her nose and then blew with her lips when the tickle increased. She opened one eye and discovered Jean-Luc had returned and was kneeling over her rubbing some kind of wispy grass against her cheek just to irritate her. A rumble began in his chest and he began to laugh as though getting on her nerves was the only thing he lived for. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him down. "Why you sneaky son of a bitch…" she shouted breaking into laughter as he tumbled over her, now laughing uncontrollably. She grabbed his side where she had recently learned he was ticklish, and he cried out._

"_Sneaky son of a bitch? Who are you insulting, my dear old mother or me?" he questioned, holding her wrists tightly, but still laughing._

"_Both of you," she laughed, breaking away from him and rolling away. He stuck the weed in her ear, but then gave up when she threw an elbow backward into his chest. "Okay you win," he said and rolled over on to his back squinting up into the blue sky. She rolled over and grabbed his hand and they lay quietly side by side in the warm sun. _

_Gradually the sky grew overcast and the sun disappeared. Darkness seemed to be closing in on the once sun drenched hillside. Beverly sat up in sudden alarm. The sun hadn't disappeared behind a cloud—it was gone. _

"_Jean-Luc, look!" She glanced back to him but he wasn't there. She looked around searchingly. Her eyes found him standing about one hundred feet away. A black rectangular mirror stood in front of him and its contents seemed to move like water. She called his name again and he turned to look at her. His body was covered in tattoos and scars and he held a strange curved blade over his shoulder. She began to run but she was too slow and her feet seemed to sink beneath her. Not seeming to recognize her he turned back around and stepped into the mirror…._

* * *

Beverly shouted, and jerked up from sleeping on her desk. A data pad and a stylus clattered to the floor. She almost fell backwards, still reeling from the dream. It had seemed so real. She heard quick footsteps behind her. "Beverly, it's alright," Troi said, coming up behind her. Deanna stooped down and picked up the data pad. "It was just a dream," she reassured her friend placing a comforting hand on Beverly's shoulder.

"Was it?" Beverly and Deanna both turned to see Guinan standing in the doorway of the Crusher's office. She walked in slowly. "It's very important that you tell me just what it was that you saw, Doctor. Because if you saw what I _think_ you saw, we are fast running out of time."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

A wind blew across the immense landing pad as the Enterprise shuttle craft touched down on Kronos. One sleek looking green-tinted non-Federation shuttle had already landed and its crew was standing outside it, apparently waiting patiently. The leader was a tall stately figure. Picard knew that figure; hooded as he was in a brown cloak; a Romulan cloak.

Tomalak threw off his hood gracefully as Picard and his party approached from their shuttle. The other four officers followed suit and looked upon the Starfleet personnel with the requisite amount of suspicion and derision. Commander Tomalak's expression was one of delight however. "Captain Picard," he announced, "How strange that we should meet the Federation in peace during such dangerous times."

Picard and his officers halted before the Romulans. "Strange? Surely the motives of your own government are not unclear to you, Commander Tomalak."

"Yes, yes...it was my government who called this conference," Tomalak admitted, still smiling. "And you shall hear no criticism of that decision from us," he said pointedly, glancing back at his officers. "For the Senate is always watching."

Picard waved his officers forward for introductions.  
"Commander Tomalak, may I present my First Officer Commander Riker, Second Officer Lt. Commander Data, Chief Engineer LaForge, Chief of security Lt. Worf and his officers Choi and Barnes." Tomalak nodded at each of the officers except for Worf whom he hardly acknowledged.

Commander Tomalak nodded at his officers. "With me are Sub-Commander Saris, and three Centurions whose names…are not important." His contemptuous smile never wavered. "And now that we have the formalities out of the way we can resume our barely veiled hostilities, Captain," said Tomalak. "After all, as you humans say there is too much water under the bridge between our cultures for us to forgive one another's transgressions."

Riker's eyebrows shot up. "Actually Commander the saying is meant to refer to old concerns that should be left behind...like water is left under a bridge."

Tomalak shrugged. "I see. Now that I know the true meaning of the phrase, I no longer believe it to be relevant."

Picard smiled slightly. "But it is relevant…perhaps in these _dangerous_ times we should consider abandoning old grudges," he offered.

Tomalak glared at Picard. "No doubt this is a Human sentiment," he said. "And one that a Romulan is not likely to share." He sighed. "How disappointing to find that the actual man does not match up to the legend," he remarked. "I am sure I speak for my crew when I say we never expected the great Captain Picard to be so...sentimental."

"And I have never _claimed_ to be a legend," Picard shot back testily.

Tomalak's slow smile widened. "So modest…as few legends are," said Tomalak deliberately.

Picard clamped his mouth shut tightly. He could feel that his patience was already faltering, which for him was unusual-and in this setting was not a good sign. He needed to remain focused and centered if they were to make progress during these negotiations.

He glanced around, and to his relief found a group of Klingons approaching to greet them. At the head of the large group was a very stout Klingon, whom Picard recognized as Chancellor K'mpec.

"Nuq'neh?" barked K'mpec. {"What do you want?"}

"Jih ghaj ghoS jatlh," said Picard in greeting, stepping forward. {"I have come to speak."}

The Chancellor laughed heartily. "Then you shall be heard, Captain. May your enemies run screaming in fear." He turned a suspicious eye to the Romulans. "How convenient that our enemies would be so close among us…."

Tomalak was unable or unwilling to hide his disgust for the portly Klingon. "I consider the label of enemy to be a compliment when uttered by a Klingon. But I have not run since I was a youth, and I certainly do not scream."

"Ha ha ha, there is still time yet," laughed K'mpec.

* * *

**Somewhere on a train in 1881 America **

"You appear to understand the principles of multi-dimensional travel, so I will try and explain this in terms that you will comprehend. As you know space-time continuum is vast. My race, known as the Q exist along most of these dimensions. There are few other species that exist similarly, but there is one singular creature we have watched with interest and suspicion for millions of your years."

"And this creature is not a Q?"

Q made a face. "No it is not. This creature, known by many names across the dimensions is what your people call Orla."

Guinan sat forward intently.

"I see the name strikes a chord with you," Q said. "While the Q are many, Orla is just one being. And while the entire scope of its power is unknown, it is believed that Orla has powers similar to the Q."

"She," corrected Guinan. "Orla is a female."

Q threw up his hands. "Oh how disappointing, this humanoid fixation on sex! Who cares what gender Orla is?"

Guinan shrugged easily. "That was how Orla presented herself to us."  
"How do you know? Were you there?" Q demanded.

Guinan shook her head 'no'. "Orla first appeared on El Auria in the ancient days, long before I was born."

"Good. I am glad that we have settled that everything you know about Orla was written in religious texts and passed along by word of mouth by people, who like yourself never actually met her-I mean _it_. Orla is no more female or male than this blob," Q said dramatically and snapped his fingers. A small purple cloud now floated between them. Guinan jumped slightly in her seat. Q flicked the cloud and it disappeared. "Actually," said Q admiring his work, "that was a fairly decent approximation of Orla's true shape: a blob."

Guinan folded her arms over her chest. "Alright...so let's agree that you know more than me. Now what exactly _do_ you know?"

"I know that this creature, Orla is very much in love with the thought of creation, to the extent that it tried its hand-well it doesn't exactly have hands- at the act of creation more than once. We Q have no interest in creating new species. Why do so when it is so much more entertaining to observe and sometimes meddle with them? And by no means do we allow ourselves to destroy another species. Believe me, this is also tempting, but we prefer to take a more hands off approach."

"But Orla does not?"

"We Q observed for many years that Orla would create a being and within the blink of one of your eyes would extinguish it if it was not to Orla's liking, or did not meet the standard of perfection it had set for itself. Thus all through the multitudes of time and space and through many universes Orla planted its seeds on various planets. Of the species Orla allowed to live, some of these were left alone to progress on their own. Others were directly influenced by Orla, and it made no secret of its presence to the extent that some of its creations took notice of it and created religions around it."

"Are you telling me that Orla created the El Aurians? But the teachings only say she came to protect us," said Guinan sounding doubtful.

"Perhaps Orla did not want you to know. Perhaps it believed that your race would be better for not knowing," said Q.

"If I am better off not knowing, why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because Orla's carelessness has alarmed some of its peers. It has unleashed a plague upon the universe, and eventually that plague may reach even the Q."

"I'm listening..."

"Orla was so pleased by the good hearted people it created on El Auria that it decided to repeat its creation on another planet in another dimension. And it loved the El Aurians so much-because if there is another failing of Orla it is that it has a limitless capacity for love-"

"The ability to love is not a failing," said Guinan. "Love is a great thing."

Q ignored her. "Orla loved the El Aurians so much that it created the species again," Q continued. "Except this time Orla _inexplicably_ decided to provide this being with greater powers, and with immortality perhaps as a gift to the wonderfully gentle and open-minded race it believed it had created once more. But it was not to be."

"As with most of its experiments, Orla created just one of these beings to begin with. But in this universe only dark matter existed, and so the being was created from dark matter. In effect Orla had created the exact opposite of an El Aurian. Orla immediately realized its mistake when the new being exhibited some concerning attributes-in particular a purely sadistic personality."

"The Other," said Guinan.

"Yes," said Q. "The ultimate problem child. So Orla attempted to destroy its new creation but the being only grew more powerful. And being the disturbed individual it was it didn't appreciate the fact that Orla had tried to destroy it. It took offense, I think you could say, to Orla's attempt to murder it."

"Realizing it had been created in the image of the perfect El Aurians who could do no wrong in Orla's proverbial eyes, and that it would never meet these high standards, the so called Other traveled to El Auria to wreak havoc. And the rest of the story-or at least most of it- you are aware of."

"But... Orla left us for years to suffer under the reign of the Other. Why...?"

Q shook his head. "Ask Orla...that is if you still intend to bring the shards to her."

Guinan stood up. "So you do know my intent after all!"

Q shrugged casually. "I just read your mind while we were talking."

"Then you should know that yes, I do intend to bring her the shards-once I have found the last one."

"I have an alternative proposal for you," offered Q. "Bring the shards to me. Your Orla is obviously so careless and untrustworthy that it's not worth your time to bring them to her."

"Not worth my time? Mr. Quentin..."

"Call me Q..."

"Q… It had better be worth my time. I just spent the last forty years traveling the universe gathering the first two pieces, and I am very close to finding the third. Once I have it I will bring them all to Orla-as my grandmother told me. "

Q smiled craftily. "And once that is done you are confident that the piece of the Other which still lies on your home planet will be no bother to you at all."

"Should I not be confident? If you have some information for me Q I will gladly accept it."

"You really expect me to tell you everything, don't you? Well I don't have any intention of doing so. It is simple. If you are really as intelligent as you seem to be, you will bring the shards to me." Q's voice suddenly took on an edge.

Guinan walked away toward the door. She was surprised no one had come and demanded to know why she had not returned to work. She turned back around to look at him. "Why can't you just find them yourself? You're omnipotent…aren't you?"

Q suddenly appeared standing right next to her. The room darkened. A halo of light seemed to shimmer around his body. "Are you challenging me, El-Aurian? Because this will be a _very_ one-sided battle."

Guinan shifted slightly, standing her ground. She knew he was right, but why so defensive? "You didn't answer my question, Q. Why can't you find the pieces yourself?"

Q still appeared angry, but the light in the room returned. "It's complicated…too complicated to explain to you," he said.

Guinan turned and opened the door to the hallway glancing out. An agitated conductor stood frozen in time, as did several passengers who had been walking through the train. It seemed Q really had not wanted to be interrupted. She smiled and looked back at him.

Q did not appear amused. "Guinan I will give you three more days. By then we will be much nearer to your destination on this hideously slow-moving vehicle. Three more days to decide whether to accept my offer to take the shards. Trust me; they will be much safer with me than with Orla."

Guinan straightened her uniform and ducked out past the frozen conductor. "I'll seriously consider it," she said calling back over her shoulder before disappearing down the passageway.

* * *

Deanna's mouth hung open in unapologetic astonishment. "Did you…did you give the three pieces to Q?"

"That's assuming Guinan found the third piece at all," said Crusher, folding her arms over her chest and looking just as shocked as Troi. "Did you?"

Guinan smiled distractedly. "Yes, eventually I did find the third piece. And no I did not give them to Q. But that story is for another day. My concern now is that if I collected the third piece, why is this happening?"

"Can you even be certain that this…thing that has taken hold of the Captain is the Other?" Crusher asked. The very thought of it made her shudder.

Guinan shook her head. "No…not without more information. That is why I wanted to find out what occurred in your dream, Doctor…."

Crusher sat back down on the edge of her desk. "I uh…well some of it is personal, you see…well Jean-Luc and I were together in the dream—you know, um…."

"I know," Guinan and Troi said at the same time. "We understand, Beverly," Troi said more gently.

Beverly looked somewhat taken aback. "The sun was so warm and comforting and in the dream I began to doze off. And then Jean-Luc left to go for a walk. When he came back we were joking around, being silly…and then the sun just disappeared from the sky—as though it had never existed. Everything seemed grey. I tried to tell Jean-Luc, but when I turned back for him he was gone. When I looked up again that's when I saw him."

"What was he doing?" Troi asked.

"He was transformed. He looked like some kind of warrior and was holding a weapon. He looked at me but it was as though…he didn't recognize me." She twisted her hands together and felt herself getting emotional. She cursed herself silently for being upset over a dream.

"It wasn't just a dream, Beverly," Troi said comfortingly.

"Anything else?" Guinan asked.

"Yes. He was standing next to something that resembled an upright mirror, with something like black water inside it. Then he stepped into the mirror."

Guinan placed her face into her hands briefly and then looked up. She was taken back for a moment to that mysterious pool of water up on the hill in her youth. The one she would have no doubt returned to if her grandmother had not intervened. But that piece had disappeared from El-Auria just a few years after the Borg attack in 2265—years after she had already dispatched the other three. No one had understood why it had disappeared, but the circumstances surrounding its disappearance and what she believed had involved one of her favorite students had always haunted her.

Now she wondered if all of her fears so many years ago had been justified. Something had happened to cause that piece of the Other to live on. And then when Captain Picard found his artifact on Risa, the Other must have taken notice. "The old texts must have been wrong," she muttered. "There were five pieces, not four. Captain Picard has the fifth piece."

* * *

"How do we stop this, Guinan?" Beverly's voice was quiet, mainly because she was so tired.

"Captain Picard's entry into the mirror is significant. But I don't know fully why. But I do know that to enter the mirror is to enter the Other's world. In his world there can only be violence and pain, because those are the things that keep him alive. He lives to see and cause the pain of beings less powerful than he is. That is why I am not surprised to hear you say that he has reported fighting in battles and has experienced wounds that won't heal."

"But how do we keep Captain Picard from falling more and more under his control-" Troi stopped in mid-sentence and turned around before Beverly even heard the familiar footsteps. No doubt Troi sensed his approach.

Captain Picard paused in the doorway of Beverly's office and leaned against the door frame. A strange expression was on his face. "Did I hear my name being mentioned? You know…three is the typical number of participants needed for the most successful conspiracies." He smiled, and the odd expression grew colder. "Of course, there is no reason for me to expect I am being plotted against. Not on my own ship of course."

Beverly stepped forward anxiously. "We didn't expect you back so soon. How is the conference going?"

The shadow over his face lifted and his features relaxed somewhat. "Oh," he said straightening in the doorway. "We just dispensed with some of the preliminaries today," he said. "Chancellor K'mpec has invited us all to a banquet tomorrow, which if it is anything like today promises to be…quite interesting." He smiled and then yawned, looking suddenly exhausted. "I think I might turn in early," he said.

"Wait," Beverly said, suddenly frightened to let him fall asleep. "Let's go to Ten Forward and have something to eat," she suggested trying to sound upbeat.

Guinan stood up. "I think I have just the thing for you both," she said. "Something special. You're going to need it to offset the Klingon food you'll be eating tomorrow."

Troi walked out behind them. "I think I will come along too. Gods I could use some chocolate right now…."

* * *

**Six hours later…**

Beverly sat up in bed. For a moment she was disoriented, and then remembered she was in Jean-Luc's quarters. She checked the clock. It was midnight. She hadn't felt him get up, and so she had no idea how long he had been gone. She heard a strange humming coming from somewhere outside of the bedroom. Getting up and pulling on a robe she walked hesitantly into the living room. He wasn't there. She saw a light coming from the bathroom and gathering her courage walked toward the room as the humming increased.

She came cautiously around the corner and saw him. He stood with his hands gripping either side of the sink, staring wide eyed into the mirror. The humming sound was coming from his mouth and black tendrils of some kind of smoky substance emitted from the small black stone on the edge of the sink, pouring into his nose and mouth. His eyes appeared an inky black, with no trace of hazel to be seen. His muscles flexed and he jerked as though he was jumping or running, or trying to at least. Beverly's mouth opened in reflexive horror. She didn't know if she was even making a sound, but she shouted with all she had.

* * *

**Well guys, as always thanks for all of your enthusiastic reviews. The first ten chapters of a story like this are always so much fun to write. I am hoping the next ten are as interesting. Let's see, there are still a bunch of things to be revealed, including the Borg connection, which has to wait a while to be explained. Until next time, take care. -PP**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

"Worf!" Troi shouted running toward him as he stepped out of the turbo lift. "Worf!"

Worf stopped short. "Yes Counselor?" It seemed somewhat late at night to be counseling the crew. And yet Deanna Troi seemed not only wide awake, but distraught as well. If she had insomnia, he could relate. Worf himself had been up exercising on the holodeck, unable to sleep after having been around so many treacherous Romulans earlier in the day. "Can I be of some assistance?"

"Yes!" She said grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the turbo lift. "We've got to get to the Captain. Something is wrong," she said breathlessly. "Deck Nine, Captain's quarters," she said to the lift.

Worf turned to glare down at Troi. "I am not…accustomed to interrupting the Captain in his private quarters, Counselor. What exactly do you need me for?"

"Security," said Troi looking up at him. "Trust me, Lieutenant, I wouldn't have asked for your assistance if I didn't think you could be of help."

Worf fixed his gaze on the turbo lift wall. There was a rumor that Doctor Crusher and Captain Picard were now involved. It was not surprising to Worf, but he did not want to embarrass the Captain by entering his quarters unannounced based simply on what Counselor Troi was…feeling. Would Doctor Crusher be there? "I am not armed," Worf suddenly blurted out. He looked down to find that Troi had been staring at him with a curious expression.

"Mr. Worf…I do not expect that you will have to _shoot_ anyone," she said.

Worf straightened. "Good," he said, feeling somewhat relieved.

* * *

He heard the screams of a woman nearby and halted his charge toward the fortress. The shouting became louder. The sound of her voice was so familiar. The woman needed help. He couldn't see her anywhere, but the shouts continued. Should he stop to find her? He was hesitant to abandon his charge, knowing that his master desired him to complete the mission.

The voice of his master boomed down at him from the sky. "The Old King has stolen the person most dear to you...you must kill him if you want her to live. She is screaming for you to help her. You must kill the Old King and take his place," the voice commanded.

Beverly! The King had captured Beverly—that was what his master had said. Now desperate, he began to run again, began to climb the steps to the fortress, but then slowed his pace when he heard the shouts again. They were coming from right next to him not in the direction of the fortress. He couldn't see her, and tears stung in his eyes. Beverly?

* * *

Jean-Luc was murmuring something over and over in a language she could not understand. For the last few minutes, she had yelled his name many times, but he was still unresponsive; locked in to whatever the artifact was making him do. Eventually, an idea came to her and she quickly left the bathroom, returning with her tricorder. With a shaking hand she put it down on the sink and then stepped back again. If she couldn't separate him from the tiny rock, then at least her tricorder would record what the Other was doing to Jean-Luc, and she could find a way to stop it.

She stopped shouting to him and shrank back against the wall, afraid to go near him for fear of what might happen to him if she tried to break the link he had with that sinister object. The fact was she didn't know what would happen. So she stood flattened against the wall watching him, when she heard the door to his quarters open and quick footsteps coming closer.

* * *

Within moments Troi and Worf stood at the door of the bathroom taking in the scene. Beverly glanced at them, and her mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to do. Picard suddenly dropped to the floor in a crouching position and began moving his arms around searchingly as though looking for something. The smoky material stopped flowing from the object into his nose and mouth, but his eyes were still a cloudy black. "Beverly," he called out hoarsely. "Beverly, I'm coming, where are you? Beverly?"

Her heart leapt. He must have heard her shouting to him earlier. But he was still in the thrall of whatever was controlling him. He couldn't see her. Beverly looked quickly at Troi as if questioning whether she should say something, anything to him. Troi nodded to her slowly, clearly unsure of her recommendation. "Yes, Jean-Luc," Beverly said trying to keep her voice steady. "It's me…I'm right here." His brow furrowed in confusion as he crawled on all fours toward the sound of her voice. A jagged bloody line zigzagged down the side of his face from his forehead to his chin. A new wound no doubt that would not heal.

"I'm coming," he whispered. "But it's dark in here, and I can't see you. Just stay still so that he can't find you," he begged her.

"Who is 'he', Jean-Luc? Who is trying to find me?"

"My master told me…." He continued to crawl toward her as though blind. Worf took a hesitant step forward. He had not expected this strange set of circumstances, and had no idea if Doctor Crusher was in danger. If the Captain was under the power of the peculiar object resting on the bathroom sink, Worf decided he should put himself between the Captain and Doctor Crusher—just in case.

This was a mistake, for as soon as he took another protective step, Picard rose to his feet, eyes an inky black. There was no recognition in his eyes, only fierce determination as he sprung on Worf. He swung at Worf two fisted as though he was wielding a sword, crying out as he did so. Worf was not prepared for the strength of the blow, which he tried to block with his forearm. It felt as though he had been struck by a blade. He heard the bones of his wrist crack, and he grunted, trying to grab the Captain to restrain him. Picard ducked out of his grasp and then turned to face him again.

"_Enemy…"_ the voice drifted. _"He must be killed to reach the King. Kill him,"_ the voice commanded.

"M-master?" Picard stammered, hesitating. The blade shimmered before him still clutched in his hands, but it no longer appeared completely solid to him. All around him, the outer walls of the fortress seemed to waver, and he thought he could see through them. The foe standing before him did not appear to be one of the countless Borg he had killed. Instead this one appeared more familiar…a golden-black uniform. A Klingon. Was he the enemy, or was he a friend? _"Where is your beloved?"_ the voice of his master hissed at him. The Klingon walked closer to him, wounded, but still a threat. The Klingon reached out a hand toward him, and he seized it, turning his feet and sending the Klingon over his shoulder. He heard the smash of glass, felt a rush of air. He couldn't see clearly. He turned and blinked and saw two female figures. Beverly? He felt dizzy and confused, as though straddling two different worlds. Then a pair of broad arms squeezed around him tightly, he struggled and then heard a hiss and felt pressure on his neck.

* * *

"Is he coming out of it?" Riker asked. "Is it safe to touch him?"

"Look at his eyes," said Troi. "They are returning to normal, Beverly."

Beverly still in shock stared down at Jean-Luc, lying prone on the deck of his cabin. He hands and feet were held in blue-green energy restraints and he stared silently up at the ceiling.

Guinan knelt on the floor next to Picard and looked up at Beverly. "He's in some sort of trance," she said. "But I can tell his mind is clearing…don't you agree, Counselor?"

Troi nodded. "Yes, I believe so."

Riker nodded. "Fine, but we're keeping the restraints on him," he said, glancing over at Worf who sat on Captain Picard's living room couch looking completely depressed as though he had failed. Worf had been able to restrain Picard, but not after having sustained a broken wrist, nose, and cuts after having been tossed into the Captain's shower by Picard himself.

Picard suddenly sat up and they all took an involuntarily step backward. Picard looked down at his bound hands and glared up at Riker, blinking in confusion. Why was he being restrained? He trusted his First Officer. There must be a good reason for this. "What is happening? Did I do something?"

"Yes, Captain," said Guinan. "You are being controlled by an entity that is using that rock sitting on your bathroom sink to create an alternate world in which you apparently travel to at night. This explains why you have been so tired, my friend. You've been awake every night for hours, fighting—for what purpose we don't know."

"Beverly," he said, jerking his head back to look behind him, where she stood watching him quietly. "Beverly, I heard you screaming. I thought she was in danger…" he trailed off in confusion. Beverly tried to walk over to his side at that moment, but Guinan held up a hand in warning.

"Captain, Doctor Crusher is safe. But you are not. Now this is very serious business. Please try and remember." She held up the tricorder and tapped at it. It emitted the sound of his voice, repeating some guttural phrase over and over.

His head swiveled around to stare at the instrument. "Is that me?"

"Yes, sir," said Troi. "Do you not remember?"

Picard gritted his teeth and shook his head in frustration. "Remember? I can't even understand what the hell I am _saying_."

Guinan stood up calmly. "I can. It is the language of the ancient El-Aurians you are speaking Captain. My people."

"What—what am I saying then?"

"You are saying 'kill the Old King'" she said and knelt down again. He looked at her with a dubious and pained expression. A thin trickle of blood streamed down his face, seeping from the jagged cut, which instead of coagulating seemed more pronounced now. "What I don't understand, Captain is _why_ you are saying it. Who is the Old King? Who does the Other want you to kill?"

Picard pressed his lips together and shook his head again. "I don't know who the King is," he said. He looked over at Worf, who looked wounded and mortified. Is that what he had done? He felt lost.

He looked down at his bound wrists. "I need to talk to Commander Riker alone," he said with quiet force. "I must ask the rest of you to leave." As they shuffled out, Beverly stooped down and put her hand briefly on his shoulder before exiting with the others.

Riker knelt down and deactivated the leg restraints, moving back then as the Captain rose to his feet. "Will…you have to take command, this is getting completely out of hand."

Riker shook his head. "The decision has already been made for both of us, Captain." He took a deep breath, feeling as though he had betrayed the Captain. "I already reported this incident to Admiral Nechayev about 30 minutes ago, sir. She is aware of your…difficulties. But she informed me that unless you become 'incoherent' and lack the 'cognitive ability' to proceed at the conference, she wants you to remain in command and to continue as the leading representative at the conference on Kronos. The stakes are much too high, sir…according to the Admiral."

"Dammit Riker then the stakes are too high for me to fail, aren't they?"

Riker reached out and deactivated the wrist restraints. "Sir, we're not going to fail. And you have my full support."

* * *

"Well, Gloria, this is where I switch up trains," said Cousin Rob, giving her a hug. He smoothed out his blue porter uniform, and straightened his cap. "I got another assignment waiting for me here in Chicago, and then back down south again. You got a few days more before you reach Sioux Falls. Once you get there, I don't know what your plans are, but there ain't an established train system all the way into the Black Hills yet. Why they just begun building that railroad in those parts."

Guinan smiled and nodded. "That's fine Rob, I will figure it out. You've been a great help to me, Rob. I cannot thank you enough."

He shrugged as he was walking away. "Jus' be careful, Gloria," he called back. "I hear it is something wild up in those parts."

As Guinan ducked back in to the train and it pulled away from the station, she turned and headed back to her duties.

It wasn't until the day after next that she saw Q again. It had been five days, not three since he had given her that ultimatum, demanding that she find the third piece and give it to him. For some reason, she had been able to avoid him. Now as the train steamed through a place referred to by the conductor as Iowa, she knew they were nearing the next significant stop for her, just over the Dakota border. Yet somehow she had a feeling she was not yet close to the end of her journey.

She walked through the train carrying a large box of cigars, she had been ordered to sell to the passengers. The number of service staff had been cut just before departing Chicago, and she was now multi-tasking as required by the head conductor. She turned at the sound of Q's voice, because he was sitting in a seat which when she had passed an instant ago had been empty. "I would like one of those fine cigars," said Q with what she had come to know as his normal air of superiority.

She halted and walked back to see him. "Yes sir, let me tell you of the fine variety we—"she cut herself off abruptly, because as she was speaking a cigar appeared between his lips, already lit for his convenience. He puffed lazily on the cigar as he watched her carefully. "Have you made your decision?" he asked slowly. "Now you had better consider all of the consequences, before answering my dear."

Guinan glanced around her. Unlike their prior discussed, Q had not stopped time, and porters hurried about, passengers talked amongst themselves and conductors patrolled the passageways.

Deep inside she knew she was in trouble, but still, she was not deterred. She had to bring the pieces of the Other to Orla, and there was something about Q that she simply did not trust. Was this all a game to him? Because for her it meant securing a future for her people and doing away with a long-lived evil. Besides, she now had many questions to ask Orla. "Yes, I have made my decision," she said. "And I must bring the shards to Orla."

Q did not look surprised, but then he had likely known her answer already. He also did not look pleased. His face reddened and he took the cigar from his mouth and slowly twisted it out on the mahogany table. "Very well. I have a feeling we will meet sometime in the future. Perhaps then you will have had time to reconsider your foolishness." He smiled up at her before shouting at the top of his lungs, "Thief!"

Guinan turned as a conductor blew a whistle and began to run toward her at full speed. She threw the box of cigars directly at the man's head and then bolted in the opposite direction.

* * *

**Hello, thanks so much for your kind reviews and for continuing to read. I should be posting the next chapter in a few days. Peace out. -PP**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" she touched his face where the gash from last night had faded to a light scar. They stood in the transporter room. Beverly had insisted on seeing him off that morning. She would join him and the rest of the command officers down on Kronos that evening. But for the majority of the day he would be in negotiations with Tomalak and Chancellor K'mpec. After the previous night's events she felt very unsettled and did not know what to think. She hated the fact that he was tied to an object that was causing chaos in his mind, which in turn was causing physical and psychic pain for himself and those around him. And she hated that so far there was nothing she could do to help him.

He averted his eyes. "Yes, I will be fine," he murmured dully. He was exhausted, but more than that he was terrified inwardly of how he might react in any given situation. He wasn't even sure what set it off; what caused the sudden changes in him. He knew he could not leave the damn rock behind on the Enterprise or he would bleed to death. It was like a parasite that refused to leave him. For the most part he still felt himself, but when he heard the whisper, something else took over in his mind and apparently also his body.

How was he to trust himself among the Romulans and Klingons, when he was expected to be sharp witted? He could not believe that he had injured Worf, who had only been trying to protect Beverly. Yes, Worf had been protecting her from him. It was unfathomable to him that he was a threat to the people he most cared about, and what was he supposed to do, give in to it? He had to resist, he knew that was the only way.

Beverly kissed him lightly on the cheek and then looked at him again. "Tell me what you're thinking," she said quietly.

He looked at her. "It doesn't matter," he said.

"How can you say such a thing, of course it matters! If we're to fight this thing and win-"

"No!" he objected backing up. "I have to handle this, Beverly. I am not sure it is even safe for anyone…but _especially_ you to be around me anymore."

"Don't use this as some excuse to pull away from me now, Jean-Luc," she said in a low voice. "You can't do this on your own," she cautioned him. He looked away. She stared at him in frustration verging on anger, as Riker and Troi entered the transporter room followed by the rest of the away team.

"I have to go," Picard said and turned away from Beverly walking toward the transporter pad.

Not knowing what else to do, she turned and left the transporter room.

* * *

"Stop the train! Stop the train!" she heard the conductor yelling. Guinan raced forward through the train, slowing only briefly to grab her satchel which held her traveling clothes. Resuming her escape she ran until she reached the locomotive car. She found a ladder and flew up it as fast as she could, and then opened the hatch. Wind and the smell of burning coal blew into her face, as she pulled herself up and out into the sunlight. The sound of the engine was now all she could hear, but she slammed the hatch shut, knowing that she was still being pursued. She realized immediately that standing up was a bad idea, as she was nearly blown off the vehicle. There were metal grips alternately along the black body of the locomotive and she crawled along as quickly as she could.

Finally she ran out of locomotive to crawl along, and heard shouts behind her. Looking over her shoulder one of the junior conductors was holding an object into the air, resembling a disruptor. She almost lost her balance as he fired it into the air with a deafening blast. There were three men behind her now, and she stood to her feet. Seeing the first passenger car behind her, she took three big steps backward, and then ran and leapt in the air. She landed with a thud, and then ran forward not looking back again. The train had already begun to slow down, and she knew she would have to find a way to hide. She was armed still with the small disruptor inside her boot, but she could not kill everyone to escape. She was not here to promote violence, and from what she had observed so far there was already enough of it on this planet.

As the train began to slow, she had an idea. She glanced back at the men clumsily pursuing her. At the end of the third passenger car she stopped and turned to make sure they were looking her way. They shouted at her to stop, and she wobbled, pretending to lose her balance and slipped off the end of the passenger car. It was a risky business, as there was little room and many pieces of protruding mechanical pieces between this car and the next one over. She caught herself on a ledge, and gripped it tightly. "She's fallen!" one of the men was screaming. "The train's stopping, let's wait and then find the body." She closed her eyes momentarily and then, as she rarely ever did, asked Orla for help.

Opening her eyes again she looked down beneath her and could see the ground beneath her still moving so swiftly that it was sickening. She knew the men would be coming, so she quickly but carefully climbed downward until she reach the immense coupler that connected the two cars. Asking Orla for help again she gripped the coupler and then swung her entire body underneath it. She knew that only a few feet now separated her exposed back from the tracks beneath her. She heard shouts from above, and then the shouts became weaker—they were moving away. They hadn't seen her. Her arms ached, but she held onto the coupler with all of her might until the train eventually stopped after a few minutes.

Letting go of the metal fixture, she dropped to the ground, and crouched down. She heard more shouts, but this time from ground, and she knew they were still looking for her. "Mr. Quentin said she stole his prize ruby," said one of the voices. "If she ain't dead yet from the fall, she will be soon enough."

Guinan crouched down as low as possible and looked underneath the train. Her hands were slippery with grease, but she was able to grab a bar underneath the train car, and pulled herself up, wrapping her arms and legs around whatever she could. Water dripped into her eye but she held herself very still as the voices passed. "She must have fallen from this car at least a mile back," she heard the conductor say gruffly. "She's dead… that much is sure. But Mr. Quentin needs his belongings, which she stole from him. Problem is we are on a tight schedule you see. Send a message to the authorities and let's be on our way."

The voices faded again, and she waited until she heard the whistle blow and the now familiar huffing of the engine firing up before she dropped down and darted away from the train, keeping low to the ground. She leapt over a grassy bank just away from the tracks and took cover as the train began to pull away. Eventually she stuck her head up and watched it disappear into the distance.

She climbed back up the hill and then turned and looked all around her. Tall grasses covered rolling hills as far as she could see. The sun was dropping lower in the sky, and she knew her best bet would be to follow the train tracks all the way into Sioux Falls. But she had no idea how long it would take. Without the train, she had no idea how long it would take her to reach the Black Hills where she knew the third piece of the Other would be waiting for her. The star map was no help to her now. She could only hope that she could find some better form of transport, or her chances were slim. So far she had been able to rely on the generosity of others only to a point. Most of these Earth people, she had learned did not have her best interests in mind.

As she walked on through the late afternoon, the wind became cooler. As the sun disappeared the stars appeared and the orbiting moon Luna was so bright that she could still see her way forward. In awe of the beauty, and very tired and thirsty, she sat down cross-legged and stared upward at the stars, wishing, not for the first time that she was back home on El-Auria. It had been years since she had lived anywhere stable for long. As she became still she suddenly came to feel very unsettled. The air did not seem as fresh here as it had.

Standing up again she could see all around her the shapes of large objects. Some were dark, but many had bright white edges, emphasized by the glowing moon above. Turning, she could see the eerie shapes all around her. Not prone to fear, she walked toward one of the shapes until she was standing over it. The smell was now overpowering, and she covered her mouth and nose before peering closer. She realized now that she had observed these shapes from the train at a glance, not knowing what she had been seeing. Now she realized that she was now walking through an immense graveyard of dead four legged creatures. Some had a strange brown fur, but many had been stripped of this covering and lay rotting grotesquely in the moonlight, some were now just skeletons having been stripped of their flesh by smaller creatures. All around her the bodies lay and she wondered what could have caused this. Disease? Famine? Or had the humans whom she now walked among done such a senseless thing on purpose with their antiquated disruptors? Deciding she had seen enough, she continued walking on into the night.

* * *

When the away team arrived on Kronos, there were only two Klingons to greet them this time. One, a tall male with piercing eyes glared at them in a manner that was not entirely friendly. The second, a female was familiar to them and broke into a smooth smile, particularly upon seeing Worf.

"Captain Picard," said Ambassador K'Ehleyr, walking forward to shake his hand. "A pleasure as always. Welcome back to Qo'noS. This is Captain Korok of the Klingon Defense Force." The tall Klingon nodded curtly. "Chancellor has commanded us to be your emissaries today, as Korok will be the Chancellor's principal during negotiation."

Picard and Riker glanced at one another. K'Ehleyr was a Klingon-Human hybrid and a Federation Ambassador. Was she here representing the Federation or the Klingon Empire?

K'Ehleyr smiled, guessing their confusion. "My…functions have changed somewhat since we last saw each other, Captain. I am here mainly as a facilitator, Captain—at the invitation of Chancellor K'empec."

Picard shook his head. "The Chancellor himself will not be participating in the conference?" Picard asked.

K'Ehleyr exchanged an intense glance with Korok. "The Chancellor is—"  
"The Chancellor is _busy_," Korok interrupted her with a growl. "But he will make appearances as warranted."

Picard looked at Riker again. "Very well then, let us proceed."

* * *

Four hours into negotiations Picard's headache was back. He consciously kept his hand away from his face which was also starting to itch and burn where he had sustained a cut last night.

Tomalak leaned forward. "Captain Picard, the purpose of the conference as you have said is to share information. Now we have been forthright with you. Enough dancing around the subject: we know you encountered a Borg cube last year. We are curious to learn all you know about it."

"Commander Tomalak, as I have said, the incident in System J-25 is highly classified. And I object to the characterization of your own behavior thus far at this conference as 'forthright'." The only thing forthright about Tomalak was his hostility. At any rate he continued. "The information we have on the Borg is limited. However Chief Engineer LaForge has prepared a visual presentation which he is willing to show any of your officers who wish to see it."

K'mpec glanced at Ambassador K'Ehleyr. The Starfleet Engineer had a device covering his eyes—or he was missing the organs altogether? Was he planning on projecting the presentation from that device? "Well, where is it then?" demanded Korok.

Picard smiled. "Chief Engineer LaForge has prepared this presentation as a holodeck program. In order to experience it he is willing to bring aboard my ship any of your representatives you wish to send."

"Korok shall go aboard your ship to view this presentation," said K'mpec.

"How clever, Picard. Information we can view...but presumably cannot take with us," remarked Tomalak. "We accept your invitation, Captain. Sub-Commander Saris will attend this presentation as well." He looked over at her with a meaningful glance, which she returned frostily. He saw her glance at LaForge who hadn't seemed to notice her yet.

"Tomorrow we will take your holodeck tour, Captain," said the Chancellor. "Now we must eat."

* * *

It took her two and a half Earth days to reach the city of Sioux Falls on foot. If she had not been staggering from heat exhaustion and hunger, and had not been herself covered in dust, dust would have been the first thing she would have noticed about the town. Many unsavory looking humans, mostly male traveled the streets, some on foot and many on horseback. Many of these individuals had weapons holstered at their hips. But Guinan was so tired and hungry that she was not afraid. Smelling food, she walked into the first structure she saw—it looked as though it was a public gathering place. She blinked once inside, because it was very dark. The smell of sweat and alcohol were predominant, but again, she didn't care. It was also very loud. She walked up to the bar. "Have you got anything to eat?" she asked with an impossibly dry mouth. "A drink of water would also be nice," she added.

The clamor ceased immediately, and most conversations stopped as all eyes turned to her. She glared back at the crowd. She repeated her request for food to the bartender.

He spit onto the floor behind the bar and twirled his mustache. "Yeah, I got lots of food, but not for you. Move on," he said roughly.

"I don't think so," said Guinan, defiantly. "I am too hungry to _move on_."

Giving her a nasty look, the bartender reached behind the bar and grabbed a long gun, placing down loudly in front of him on the bar. Then it happened so quickly that she took a step back. At the bar, a hunched man wearing a large flat brimmed hat un-holstered his gun and without hesitation placed it against the temple of the bartender. With his other hand he dropped a handful of coins on the table.

The bartender put up his hands. "Okay, okay…calm down Pritchard."

The man grunted and then sat back down to attend to his drink. The bartender waved her over to the bar. "What'll you have?" he demanded of her, flicking a suspicious eye at the stranger in the hat.

"Water and then anything you have to eat is fine," she said, sitting down.

"Buffalo it is then," he said reaching for a plate.

* * *

"I have to warn you," Ambassador K'Ehleyr said to Beverly Crusher and Deanna Troi as they neared the banquet hall. "Chancellor K'mpec is notoriously lecherous. He is constantly chasing females who are uninterested in him. Actually I have never known a female to be interested in him. Just be prepared…and I would suggest sitting as far away from him as possible during dinner just to discourage him," she said.

Crusher smiled and shrugged distractedly. She had too much on her mind to worry about an obnoxious Klingon. Troi, who had already been involved in the negotiations over the last half day was so exhausted from sifting through the emotions and motivations of the various conference participants that she had long ago learned to deflect the Chancellor's lurid thoughts.

K'Ehleyr fell into step beside Worf. "I have missed you," she said.

Worf growled. "Your presence is unexpected here. No doubt this is a ploy to confuse the loyalties of the conference participants."

She turned to look at him as they walked. "A ploy launched by whom? The Klingons, Humans, or Romulans?" Worf remained stony faced. "Really, you know me better than that, Worf! You _can't_ believe I am working for the Romulans now."

"I did _not_ say that," he protested.

She laughed and then looked at him more closely. "Is your nose broken? Perhaps you've found a new mate after all," she said casually.

He turned on her fiercely. "Why did you not tell me you would be here? Must I always be surprised by your appearance?"

K'Ehleyr shrugged, opening the door to the banquet hall. "Don't be so easily surprised, Worf," she said ushering him inside.

* * *

When Geordi sat down next to the attractive but severe looking Romulan Sub-Commander Saris, he had no idea what to expect. He sipped from a glass of water in front of him. "So you're an engineer, huh?" He silently cursed himself. He probably sounded like an idiot to her. His fears were confirmed when she spoke.

"How perceptive of you," she said dryly.

He scratched his head. "Um…can I ask you a question? I'm not going to assume that all Romulans know each other, but a few months ago I was stranded on a planet with a Romulan centurion. His name was—"

"Bochra," said Saris, glancing at him. Tomalak had been right about this human, he was quite sentimental.

Geordi broke into a smile. "Yeah, you do know him! We couldn't stand each other at first but later on I think we kind of bonded. I was wondering…how is he?"

Saris turned and focused on Geordi with a laser stare. "Dead," she said simply.

"Wha-what? Oh," he said, sorry that he asked, and certainly sorry for Bochra. He stared into his glass of water, and then noticed with concern that most of the dishes being placed on the table were much less recognizable than his water. And some of the food seemed to be moving… "I could really go for a replicated hamburger right now," he said. "Most of this stuff seems kind of…alive."

"That is most unfortunate for you Mr. LaForge," said Saris.

"Call me Geordi," he said with a renewed grin.

"No," she said, not seeming to notice as his smile abruptly faded. "But it does not matter to me, for I do not _eat_ Klingon food," she added with a disgusted face.

"When on Kronos, you will eat as the Klingons eat, if only for one day," Tomalak suddenly interjected from down the table, as he seated himself.

"Just follow my lead," Riker spoke up across the table from Saris. "I'm an old pro at this—eating Klingon food that is," he said with a charming wink.

Saris turned to LaForge. "Is your commanding officer attempting to seduce me?"

Laforge nearly dropped his glass. "Um…no I think he's just trying to be friendly. He's just really good at being friendly…."

* * *

Beverly had waited outside of the banquet hall for Picard to arrive. As he approached he looked as though a great weight was pressing down on him. He smiled weakly as he reached her and glanced around them before reaching out to touch her arm.

"I am sorry for before Beverly."

She took his hand. "I accept your apology," she said. She straightened briefly as an immense Klingon walked past them into the hall. Once the door shut again she moved in closer and put her lips to his ear, something she knew excited him. "Will you let me come and see you later?" she said softly.

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes," he agreed, but moved a little further away from her to more professional distance. "But I'm sure I don't deserve such a visit."

She looked down at their joined hands and sighed. "Why don't we go inside and sit down before you say something else that requires an apology later…."

"Alright," he agreed.

* * *

For the most part the mood at the Klingon banquet was better than expected, but things eventually took a turn for the worse. Picard, sat directly to the Chancellor's left, with Tomalak sitting across from him, which did nothing to help his headache. Between Tomalak's very potent Romulan ale, his piercing stare, and K'mpec's yelling, Picard was miserable. First the itching and burning began on his face again. The wound felt raw as if it had just been inflicted. And then the malevolent whispering started inside his brain.

"Why Captain," said Tomalak, "it has been some time since I have seen Human blood. But are you by any chance wounded?"

Picard reached up to touch his face lightly with his fingers and was rewarded by searing pain. "It's nothing," he said, returning to his food. He ignored Tomalak's delighted expression.

As K'Ehleyr had suggested Troi and Crusher sat as far away from the Chancellor as possible. It was a good try, but the Chancellor was on a roll all evening. "Captain, where did you find such a beautiful Doctor? Most of the Klingon doctors are disgustingly hideous."

The voice whispered in his mind, but he pushed it away. Picard put his fork down. "I do not select my officers based on their physical attributes, Chancellor," he said firmly, and picked up the fork again, ignoring Tomalak's amused gaze.

K'mpec broke into raucous laughter. "Captain, you can't be serious…even when her physical attributes are that pleasing to the eye? I am sure you do not value what you have here, my friend."

"Chancellor…I would prefer it if you would change the subject to a more appropriate topic," Picard said tightly as the whisper grew louder again. "I can't allow you to disrespect my officers," he said trying to keep his voice calm.

The Chancellor pressed on. "Well…Doctor Crusher if you would ever consider freelancing, I am in definite need of a new personal doctor. I haven't felt well as of late." He glared at Commander Korok with open accusation in his eyes. "Ha! I am old and fat, but not stupid. Do they think I do not recognize the difference between medicine and _poison_?"

Conversation suddenly hushed at the table.

Doctor Crusher trying to make the best of the situation smiled evenly. "We have a wonderful medical facility on board the Enterprise, Chancellor…I would be happy to examine you," she offered.

"I am sure you would," said the Chancellor with a devilish smile.

"I said…enough!" Without further hesitation Picard swiftly picked up a knife next to his plate and thrust it into the table just underneath Chancellor K'mpec's jowly face. He stood up slowly as if to further challenge the old man, and his expression was one of plain aggression.

Korok stood up and put his hand on his gun, which caused Worf to do the same. K'mpec gazed up at Picard, and then eventually began to laugh heartily, grabbing the knife and pulling it out of the table. He handed the knife to a nearby guard. "I like you, Picard. Sit down, I mean no harm," he urged him. Picard's expression cleared somewhat and he sat back down looking slightly embarrassed. Worf and Korok sat down as well, but not before sharing a mutual growl.

"To the Klingon-Federation Alliance," the Chancellor suddenly shouted, raising his glass. He tilted his head at Tomalak. "And to Romulan Ale," he added begrudgingly before draining his glass.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

Ensign Barnes was on the edge. The only thing that calmed his brain now was Captain Picard. He didn't know why but all day long as he watched Captain Picard speak at the conference he hung on every word as though the Captain was speaking directly to him, even though the Captain rarely did. And later that evening at the banquet the spring inside Barnes' young chest became so tight that he felt he would burst with emotion. Everything the Captain said was so true. Every order he gave was for a greater purpose. Choi had asked him twice what was wrong with him as though there was something wrong with being a loyal officer. What the hell did she know anyway?

But there was a problem. He couldn't trust these Romulans...and he wasn't too damn sure about the Klingons either. The only thing that made sense to Barnes was that Captain Picard was a great man. It would be an honor to die for such a man…even to kill for him. He wished he could warn the Captain to watch out for Tomalak. Barnes saw how the Romulan just stared at the Captain as though he was plotting.

The Romulans were always plotting, and couldn't be trusted. _Enemy._ He couldn't get that thought out of his head. Last night he had dreamt that he was on a great battlefield. He was fighting the Borg and up ahead of him was Captain Picard. At least fifty other Enterprise crew members fought alongside them. He had been so convinced that it had been real that when he woke up he couldn't stop thinking about it. And when he reported for duty and Choi had greeted him with that casual nod of hers he had nearly demanded why she hadn't been there, fighting with him; fighting for the Captain.

Now he sat next to this smug looking nameless Romulan centurion as they both watched a spirited discussion unfold among Picard, Tomalak and K'mpec all the way at the end of the table. There was no harmless synthehol at the table and Barnes had been drinking too much ale. And the more he drank the more he felt rage toward the Romulans. The Romulans might as well be in league with the damn Borg….

It was so difficult to tell anymore who was an ally. Even the Klingon leader had insulted Doctor Crusher and then had laughed at the Captain. Nobody insulted Captain Picard and got away with it. Not while Ensign Barnes was around. Barnes gripped the metal cup in his hand as the pressure inside his skull grew. He wanted to smash the Romulan next to him in his smug face.

The Romulan sitting next to Barnes did have a name; it was Tothas. And Tothas _was_ trying to plot against the Humans and Klingons. The problem was he was enraptured by the voice of his enemy. For some reason, he could not help but hang on Picard's every word. Suddenly even Tomalak paled in comparison to the Enterprise Captain, and Tothas did not understand why. But Tothas knew where his loyalties lay; where they were supposed to rest: right at the feet of the Romulan Empire. But yet everything Picard said rang true. As the conflict within Tothas grew, he became more enraged at the stupid looking Starfleet security officer who sat next to him. In addition the Human was giving him the dirtiest of looks. That was how it all started.

"What are you looking at, you dirty Romulan?" Barnes suddenly declared, slurring his speech. He held up his heavy metal cup as if offering to smash it into Tothas' face. Then, without waiting politely for the sneering Romulan to answer, he did smash the metal cup into the face of his foe.

In response, Tothas grabbed Barnes by the head and slammed him into the table. Barnes' colleague Ensign Choi, who was really just trying to help out a fellow officer chopped Tothas across the back of the neck, causing him to flail backwards into her. And as she hit the wall another Romulan and a Klingon guard became involved in the fray.

LaForge threw his hands out to deflect a spinning plate which nearly struck Sub-Commander Saris. She looked at him with genuine surprise and then disgust as a piece of writhing Klingon food landed with a plop on his head.

Riker and K'Ehleyr stood up at the same time with a shout, which is when everyone noticed that air grew still and the objects in the room seemed blur at the edges. The walls seemed to shimmer around them as though their surroundings were not real. Captain Picard was standing up now and his eyes had grown dark. He walked toward the fight and halted in front of Ensign Barnes. Riker could hardly believe his eyes as a smoky substance exited from Picard's chest and appeared to enter Barnes' throat. Picard reached out with one hand and lifted Barnes into the air by his collar. He began speaking in a deep voice that seemed to reverberate through the room. And the voice did not sound like Captain Picard's at all. Moreover, the words he spoke were unintelligible. _"Thir en ral en hai sem lai…." _But what Ensign Barnes understood clearly was: _"My servant…leave the fighting for the true enemy…soon all of these creatures will be under my power…." _The eyes of both Barnes and Picard shone black as they stared at each other.

Suddenly a shot rang out and Picard turned around to fix his gaze on Chancellor K'mpec, who had just discharged his antique disruptor into the ceiling of the room. He lowered the weapon slowly as it smoked in his hand. "I think it is time to call it a night," said the Chancellor.

* * *

"Commander Riker what is the meaning of this?" Commander Tomalak demanded. Riker looked from the Romulan to K'mpec and sighed. Worf stood nearby with his arms crossed over his chest. Captain Picard and the rest of the crew had unceremoniously returned to the Enterprise just minutes earlier.

"I can explain…." Riker trailed off realizing that he was at a loss himself—actually he wasn't sure if he could explain.

"It would seem that your Captain is…possessed by some kind of demon," observed Chancellor K'mpec. "This would seem an unfortunate barrier to our negotiations."

"Normally I would disagree with whatever the Chancellor said, but I have to agree, that this turn of events is _most_ disagreeable," said Tomalak.

"Captain Picard is under the influence of an alien artifact…at times," said Riker slowly. He knew he was taking a chance by being honest, but he feared that any further subterfuge would only be met by more hostility. "But I assure you that he is fine and perfectly competent to continue the negotiations. Don't forget it was Captain Picard who stopped the fight at the banquet."

"A fight that was started by _your_ junior officer, Commander," Tomalak nearly shouted. "What is your excuse for that? Was he under the influence as well?"

"Clearly the ale you brought us was more than potent, Tomalak," Chancellor K'mpec said accusingly.

Riker had no reasonable explanation for Barnes. "I can assure you that Ensign Barnes will be punished for his assault on your crewman, Commander Tomalak," he said tightly.

"Commander Riker, I am no _feanna _who was born yesterday,"Tomalak said with a scowl. He poked his finger at Riker. "You are either gambling with circumstances you clearly do not understand—or you are disregarding the singular importance of this conference. As far as I am concerned any further acts of violence against my people will be considered an act of war!" He turned on his heel and left the room.

The Chancellor eyed Riker. "Thank you for an entertaining evening, Commander. I can only hope that tomorrow will be just as interesting," he added before leaving.

* * *

After eating a full meal, Guinan had fallen asleep in the alleyway of a building adjacent to the bar. Just after dawn she stretched her sore muscles and stepped out into the empty street looking around her. Only a few horses stood tied loosely to posts lining the street. There were two beautiful chestnut colored horses standing together near the bar she had been in last evening. Cautiously she walked over and reached out her hand to one of them. He turned his giant head toward her and looked at her with a big gentle eye. She watched him for a moment and then began speaking softly to him.

Just then there was a commotion from the bar. "I said get outta here! You've been cut off for good." A man came stumbling out of the door, followed by the bartender who leveled a kick at the man's backside, shoving him into a mud puddle. The man, the same one who had come to her rescue the night before landed face first with a graceless thud onto the ground. The bartender spat on the ground next to the man. "Not so tough now are ya, Pritchard? You dirty drunk…." The bartender didn't seem to see her, as he turned and walked back in to his fine establishment slamming the door behind him.

Guinan continued to pet the horse while watching the man out of the corner of her eye. The man coughed and grunted, pushing himself to a sitting position. He took off his hat and wacked it on his knee as caked mud sprayed everywhere. He was almost completely bald, with a large elegant nose and strong jaw. He plopped the muddy hat back on his head and looked up at her. "You speak horse, huh?"

She looked at him. "Apparently, yes."

He squinted up at her as the sun began to make an appearance in the sky. Soon it would be too hot to think, but for now, it was quite pleasant. He rose to a crouching position. "Oh yeah? So what's the horse got to say?"

She raised her non-existent eyebrow at him. "You really want to know?"

He shrugged so she told him. "He says his human smells bad. He wonders if all humans smell as bad as his human."

Pritchard got to his feet and took his hat off pointing it at her. "Now look here, that's _my_ horse—"

"I figured," she said mildly.

He snorted, which turned into a deep laugh. He put the hat back on his head still watching her. She whispered into the horse's ear again, an old El-Aurian poem of good luck. She figured if the horse was traveling with this human, he would need some luck. As the man listened to her speak, his expression changed suddenly, and she could tell that it was one of shock and recognition. She stopped speaking immediately. Did he understand her?

She moved away from the horse and folded her hands in front of her. "I owe you for what you did for me last night. Thank you," she said sincerely.

He blinked, somehow surprised to have heard such a sentiment. "Don't matter," he said. "I've got plenty of money. You wouldn't know it to look at me," he added with a half grin.

"No I wouldn't," she said, returning his smile. "But that's not what I meant. It wasn't the money. You helped me out, Mr. Pritchard, and I am in your debt."

He reached into a small satchel at his side and pulled out a small plug of tobacco which he stuck in his mouth and began to chew, still watching her. After a few moments he spit a disgusting stream of brown liquid onto the ground. "I don't believe in holding a debt over no one's head," he said slowly, as though he had thought about this subject for a long time.

She shifted her feet. She wasn't sure if she should push her luck or not. "I'm trying to get somewhere," she said.

"Oh? It's always good to have a place to go," he said absently, adjusting a bag attached to the saddle of his horse.

"Maybe you know it…it's called the Black Hills."

He turned his head sharply to look at her. "_Know_ of it? Yep, I spent a good deal of time there. Where I made my fortune, in fact," he added.

She broke into a relieved smile. "Can you give me directions to get there?"

He looked at her like she was crazy. "Now this territory ain't safe traveling for a woman on her own—in particular a colored woman."

"Trust me, Pritchard, I know how to travel," she said.

He laughed. "Sure…listen the Black Hills are nearly 400 miles away from here." He looked her up and down. "So you don't exactly have the means now, do you?"

"How long on horseback?" she asked, not even too sure how long a mile was.

He laughed and then spit again leaning against his horse. "Depends on how far you are able to ride each day. With a good horse, you could do 20-30 miles a day if you are willing, and that'd take you just shy of three weeks."

She was crestfallen, for she had a pretty good idea how long a week was.

"Of course," he added, seeing her expression. "You would need a good guide to get you from here to there."

She brightened. "Are you offering your services?"

He shrugged. "Got nothing better to do, I suppose. Sure…on the condition that you tell me why you're goin' out that way. And your name," he added.

So far she hadn't told anyone her real name, but for some reason now she felt compelled to. "My name is Guinan," she said. "And I'm looking for something," she paused. "It's very precious."

"Precious? Like a gem? Like gold? Because I can find those," he said confidently.

Guinan had no idea what either of those things were so she said no.

Pritchard frowned. "Well, what's it look like?"

She smiled. "It looks like…what you want most in the world at the moment you first see it—and to every person that is a different thing."

A deeply remorseful expression passed over the man's face at that moment. He looked down and scuffed his boots. "I'd like to see somethin' like that," he said, his voice suddenly full of emotion. "Very much."

She stuck out her hand for him to shake. "So is it a deal then?"

He took her hand and shook it once firmly. "It is."

* * *

"You know, Captain, if I didn't know you better, I would think you were hiding," said Guinan. Picard sat inside her quarters. Before this evening he hadn't even considered that she had quarters. It was just easier somehow to picture her living within the confines of Ten Forward.

His hands gripped a hot cup of tea. He looked up at her. "Hiding? From who?"

"You tell me," she suggested, adjusting her hat. He didn't say anything, but sipped his tea slowly. "How was dinner?" she asked casually.

"Well aside from me threatening Chancellor K'mpec with a knife, and a brawl breaking out while everyone was eating, I'm sure that _something_ could have been worse."

Guinan smiled slightly. "Captain you and I both know that a brawl at a Klingon dinner is almost to be expected."

He looked at her. "Yes, but _we_ started the brawl, Guinan. Ensign Barnes attacked one of the Romulan officers for no apparent reason."

"And why did you threaten the Chancellor?"

He reddened with embarrassment. "He was being rather rude and flirtatious with Beverly and for some reason I let it get the better of me. For his part, he took it well."

"And Beverly?"

He shook his head. "She's not talking to me," he admitted.

"And you seem oddly comfortable with that," she commented.

He frowned. "What?"

"You're afraid of hurting the woman you love," she said.

He covered his face with his palms briefly and then looked back up at her. "And why shouldn't I be? Look at what is happening to me? It's as though all of my control is slipping away."

"Captain I think that this…acting out that you are doing is just one symptom of your connection with the Other. And my friend, it is only going to get worse if you let it."

He looked at her with growing desperation. "What should I do? What must I do to break free of this?"

She sat forward. "Captain, he's only been defeated once before. We have to find Orla, and bring the piece to her. She is the only one who will know what to do. Until then my best advice is to fight him with everything you have. And…to strengthen the ties with the people you care about. Love and friendship are concepts that offend his very nature."

He put down the cup and took a slow breath. "Orla is your god figure," he said flatly.

"One of them, yes," she said. "But more importantly she is our protector. In times of trouble we have always looked to her."

"And has she always helped you?"

Guinan shook her head without hesitation. "No."

"But you have seen her?" he asked skeptically. "She's actually real?"

"Oh yes. The problem is that in order to find her she must give us a sign that she is willing to see us."

Picard got up and began pacing. He shook his hands. "A sign! This is maddening. I don't even know how far this will go—what will happen to me. And I don't appreciate having to rely on some—some ancient religion to save me. No offense," he added apologetically.

She watched him curiously. "None taken," she said mildly. "By the way, you never told me who you are fighting in your dreams. Who are you battling?"

He drank the rest of his tea and seemed to stare through her. "The Borg...I have come to believe that the Old King was fighting them before I came. And now the Other wants me to kill the Old King as well."

The Borg. A chill ran through Guinan at that moment. A chill from many years ago. Who was the Old King? She knew she would have to find out in order to help Picard.

They both turned toward the door at the sound of the chime. "Come in" Guinan said, getting to her feet next to Picard. The door slid open to reveal Beverly Crusher leaning against the doorframe.

"Beverly," he said, sounding and looking surprised.

"I thought I would find you here," she said half accusingly to Picard. "Guinan," she said nodding to the bartender by way of greeting.

Guinan smiled. "Doctor, can I get you something? Some tea perhaps?"

Crusher shook her head, still staring at Picard. "When are you going to stop avoiding me?"

He put his hands up. "I wouldn't, Beverly honestly, if I could just _trust_ myself."

"Jean-Luc, no one knows exactly what is happening to you. But if you don't allow us to help you, it's only going to be worse." She looked to Guinan. "Am I right?"

Guinan looked at Picard. "Yes, she is."

Beverly walked to him and took his hands. "Even when you were in a trance last night you were still trying to protect me. I don't believe that you would hurt me, Jean-Luc. And as long as I trust you, you _have_ to continue to trust yourself. If you don't you will just be giving the Other the things that Guinan says he feeds off of. So please continue to remember who you really are…the person that I love."

He attempted a brave smile. "I will," he said moving into her embrace.

* * *

**Hello, thanks for your continued interest in this story. Hopefully you are still into it! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Take care, -PP**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

"This new development with Captain Picard is troubling," said Sub-Commander Saris.

Tomalak was contemplative as he drank his tea. "How so?" he questioned. Saris fell silent because she knew he did not truly desire an answer. Instead she knew he intended to continue speaking, which he did. "It is yet another weakness to exploit Saris, and if we are careful and cunning, it may be far more than that."

"Commander do you intend to extend an offer to Picard then?" She asked, somewhat surprised.

Tomalak flicked his teacup with his finger. "The conditions appear to be right," he said slowly. He looked up at her with a disturbing smile. "Tomorrow I will decide. Meanwhile you are scheduled to observe the Starfleet engineer's presentation tomorrow, and I trust you to perform to my expectations. Your cousin Bochra failed to impress...and look where it got him."

Saris tilted her head towards him. "Is that a threat?"

"Oh yes."

* * *

Pritchard had disappeared for about an hour and when he returned down a path back in to town he looked somewhat fresher, even though his clothes were still dusty. "Nothing like a bath in the cool morning," he declared, now apparently in a wonderful mood.

"Bath?" she asked.

"There's a stream back yonder," he said gesturing back where he'd come from. "For those of us that need washing," he added with sly glance. He adjusted his hat. "Now Guinan, if you talk to Ulysses again, be sure to tell him he don't exactly smell like roses either."

"Ulysses is your horse?

"Yep," he said distractedly, looking toward a patch of greenery on a hill nearby. He surveyed it silently and then smiled to himself practically skipping toward the hill. "The other horse is his sister Peaches."

Guinan had no translation for "Peaches". "I will be sure to let Ulysses know then," she said.

Guinan now watched the man as he stooped on a dusty hillside. He was not particularly tall, but was broad shouldered and sturdy. At his feet were patches of flora of various colors. Humming to himself he carefully picked himself an assortment of flowers until he had a raggedy looking bunch in his hand.

As Guinan watched him she noted that the sun was growing very hot and it was nearly mid-day. Her stomach growled with hunger. She also began to think that she too needed a bath. "What are you doing?" she asked, wondering when they would leave town.

He scrambled deftly back down the hill toward her. He held out the handful of flowers for her to inspect. "They're for a lady," he said with a smile, putting the emphasis on the word 'lady'. "Well, you're a gal…what do you think? Are they pretty?"

She furrowed her brow. "Yes…but they were prettier while growing on the hillside. Now they are on their way to being dead. What do you need them for anyway?"

Pritchard laughed and began to walk away. "If you saw her, you'd know," he said.

She followed him through town mainly because she didn't have anything better to do, and of course she didn't want him to leave town without her. He kept walking, whistling happily until he reached a large white building. She heard laughter and shouting coming from inside and wondered if they were serving food in there. Leaning against a tree in the shade Guinan watched Pritchard march up to the door flowers in hand. He knocked on the door.

A large woman answered the door, opening it only part-way. She seemed quite familiar with Mr. Pritchard. "Listen John, she doesn't want to see you." Her eyes dropped to the flowers in his grasp. "Pretty…did you finally drink all of your money away, or are you trying to prove somethin' with those flowers?"

He tried to move his boot into the doorway, but she yanked the doorknob closing the door on his foot. "Ow! Cassie, I need to see her," he exclaimed. "I'm going out of town and I won't be back for a while…."

"We all know what you _need_, Pritchard," Cassie laughed. "And any girl can give you the same thing. Come on and just pick another girl—pick ten other girls, you've got the cash."

"I don't want another girl, I want Sandy," he insisted.

"Why?" the Madame asked in a sing-song voice.

"You know why," he said in a low voice.

"Yeah and Sandy knows too. Maybe she don't want to be compared to your dead wife anymore, you ever think of that?"

He banged the flowers against his leg angrily, and petals exploded into the air. "She's not dead…I told you, she ran off."

"So all you need is a red-headed whore who don't care about you, and you forget all about her? Only you could turn plain sex into somethin' creepy, Pritchard. You're starting to scare my girls, especially Sandy."

"I love her," he said resolutely.

You don't _love_ Sandy, John Pritchard; you love your _dead wife_."

He shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose, stepping backward. The bouquet of flowers dropped from his grasp onto the dusty ground. Slowly he turned and walked away as the door slammed shut again.

* * *

"Commander, this is the second time in less than twenty-four hours that you have contacted me without permission from Captain Picard", Nechayev pointed out. "Tell me, is the chain of command broken on board your ship?"

"No sir," said Riker tightly. "But these are highly unusual circumstances, and I am concerned about Captain Picard." He explained what had happened that evening at dinner.

Nechayev's eyes narrowed. "Is this...affliction of Captain Picard's interfering with the negotiations?"

Riker paused. "Not yet, Admiral. But it is only a matter of time before it does."

"How do you know? What is Counselor Troi's opinion?"

"She says he is doing his best to resist, but his ability to do so may be weakening. We don't want to lose him, Admiral."

She nodded and for a moment she seemed genuinely concerned as well. "Would it be possible for Counselor Troi to somehow strengthen his mental faculties, or perhaps to block the influence of this alien artifact?"

"I will ask her if it's possible," agreed Riker. "But it could be risky...for both of them."

"Desperate times have always called for desperate measures, Commander Riker."

"Aye sir."

"And in the future if you have concerns about Captain Picard's health I suggest you mention them to the ship's chief medical officer. If I know Beverly Crusher, she might have more influence over him than you think," she said. "Nechayev out."

* * *

Pritchard picked up the flowers and walked silently away from the brothel scuffing his feet in the dirt. As he passed by Guinan he handed her the flowers without slowing his pace.

"Hey!" She yelled trotting after him. "Where are you going?" She wanted to get going, and here he was heading off on another tangent.

"If I can't get laid then I am sure as hell going to get drunk," he said over his shoulder.

"Is this how you handle all of your problems, Pritchard?" She shouted after him as he continued to wander away.

"Only the big ones," he yelled back.

"What would your wife think of you doing this to yourself, drinking your life away..."

He spun on his heel and pointed at her. He was livid. "I swear if you mention my wife again our deal is _off_!"

She shrugged. "Fine. But when are we leaving? I have business, Pritchard."

"Business," he growled. He looked like he wanted to say something more but instead just kicked the dirt and turned to resume his march through the streets. "Just give me three hours," he promised her grumpily.

She threw up her hands, but really what was she to do?

* * *

Riker sat with his head in his hands. He knew that eventually he might have to take command, if he couldn't help the Captain pull free from this object that was controlling him. If only he could just think it all through. His communicator beeped and he sat up straighter. "Riker here," he said tiredly.

"_Commander…we have a situation in the brig,"_ Worf reported. "_There is something very wrong with Ensign Barnes." _

Riker sighed. Now what? "I'm on my way," he said.

* * *

"Let me go! Let me go!" Ensign Barnes writhed and flailed his arms, as Worf and Ensign Choi attempted to restrain him. They had already stunned him…twice, and he was still fighting them.

"What the hell is going on here?" Riker demanded striding in to the cell block. "Barnes, get yourself under control!"

"Traitors!" Barnes shrieked. "Traitors! Captain Picard will have your heads! He will kill you himself, mark my words."

"Barnes!" Riker walked up to the cell. The young man seemed to stare through him as his body shuddered with exertion. Riker nodded to Worf and Choi. "Let him go and step out here. He can sit in the cell until he cools down."

Worf glanced at Riker once they were standing side by side. "Sir, we stunned him twice because he was repeatedly throwing himself against the force field barrier."

Riker nodded. "You did the right thing, Lieutenant. We don't want him to harm himself further."

"But the stun setting had no effect, sir," Ensign Choi informed him.

Riker looked down at her. "You were next to him at dinner. What happened?"

She ran a hand through her short hair. Riker noticed she had a bruise over her right eye from the brawl on Kronos. "I-I don't know, sir. He just…went off on the Romulan."

"Did the Romulan officer do anything to provoke him?"

Choi shook her head. "The Romulan was giving us dirty looks all night sir, but that's nothing new…Romulans always do that. I don't know sir."

Riker turned his attention back to Barnes. The man stood inside the cell breathing heavily and glaring at them.

"Let me_ out_ of here," he demanded. "Captain Picard needs me!"

Riker walked forward. "Why?"

"He—he needs me. He needs all of us," he said looking up at Riker accusingly. "We have to help him get to the fortress. If we don't, the Borg will win."

"Have you been fighting the Borg, Ensign Barnes? With Captain Picard?"

Barnes suddenly struck the force field, and then staggered backwards. "You wouldn't have to ask me that if you had been there! Traitors!"

"Why will the Borg win?" Worf asked, unaffected by the screaming man.

"The Old King is much too weak now to challenge the Borg. He must be dealt with. And only Captain Picard can kill him." His breathing became faster and he paced around his cell furiously.

"Who is he?" asked Riker. "Who is the Old King?"

Barnes didn't seem to hear him. His face was nearly purple he was so enraged. "Let me _out_!" he screamed.

* * *

Pritchard kept walking through town, so she followed him. Guinan figured he would return to the bar…while he was drinking himself into a stupor she would go and take a bath in the stream, and then in a few hours they would finally leave town. But things didn't turn out the way she planned. It seemed that lately, things almost never did.

Out of nowhere rode six men on horseback kicking up a great cloud of dust. One horse was pulling a cart on which a man sat holding the reigns- various wooden crates and other items were packed inside the cart. The other five men trotted around Pritchard encircling him. They were heavily armed. "Oh shit," she heard him say under his breath. Guinan stepped back, remembering all too well the horror she had felt when she had been attacked by the white hooded riders just a few weeks earlier.

"Pritchard, you son of a bitch!" yelled one of the men with a long scraggly beard. He rode forward brandishing a gun, which he leveled at Pritchard's chest. "I come for what's mine, you thieving devil," he snarled.

"I'm no thief, Bill," retorted Pritchard. "It's you who takes what you got no right to."

The man cocked the gun. "One of these days, Pritchard I am going to shoot you…but right now I will give you one minute before I have my boys beat you senseless."

"Boss, he ain't got any sense no how," one of his sidekicks laughed.

"Shut up, Lenny," said Bill Loomey turning his attention back to Pritchard. "I want to know where the claim is you staked, and I want my share of gold you promised me. I thought you were an honorable man, Pritchard."

"Listen here Bill, you killed my partner…and then you tried to do me the same," said Pritchard. "Any promises I made you were strictly conditional on you not attempting to _murder_ me—so there you have it—our deal is null and void."

Loomey nodded to two of his henchman, who climbed down from their horses. One of the men, identified as Lenny, held a short heavy club, and the other held a coiled whip in his hand. Lenny walked up to Pritchard, slapping the club into his meaty hand. He grinned and nodded over at Guinan. "Got yourself a new friend, huh?"

Pritchard took off his hat as though he was trying to be polite, and stepped closer to the grinning man. "Yeah," he said, before violently head-butting the man just above the eye. Lenny staggered backward and fell to one knee. The other man lashed out suddenly with the whip and caught Pritchard in the side of his neck with a stinging blow. Pritchard grunted and ran toward the man to close the distance as quickly as he could. Adjusting quickly, the man hit Pritchard in the temple with the thick handle of the whip. He fell to the ground, and the two men began kicking him repeatedly.

Guinan knelt down and pulled an object from her boot. She held it up. "Leave him alone!" she shouted.

Loomey sneered at her. "What's that a rock?" he laughed. "I don't think you know your place, you little—"

Guinan fired the disruptor at him, very careful not to hit the horse he was sitting on. It was a very heavy stun, the kind that made you wish the setting had been set to kill when you woke up vomiting and unable to walk straight for hours.

Pritchard slowly uncurled on the ground and struggled to his feet, punching Lenny in the face once and then twice. Guinan shot the man with the whip, and when the other men in the gang pulled out their guns, she shot them too, again on heavy stun. Pritchard coughed and wiped blood from his mouth, looking on the scene with a stunned expression. He watched Guinan with his jaw open as she casually placed the small disruptor back in her boot.

Suddenly coming out of his confused stupor he seemed to notice the horse drawn cart for the first time. Elated he scrambled up on to it and began rummaging through some of the crates. Upon seeing the contents he began to laugh enthusiastically. He grabbed two of the crates and jumped down. "Change of plans," he declared. He placed the two wooden boxes in Guinan's arms. "Can you take these over to the stream? I'll go and get the horses, and meet you over there as quick as I can."

Guinan nodded, backing away. "Your last business partner was killed?"

His eyes twinkled. "Don't worry; I'd say you already have better luck than he did."

* * *

He ran the back of his hand down her side to her waist and then moved it against her hip in a circular motion. She responded by pressing against him and biting his bottom lip softly as their kiss deepened. She brought her knee up along his thigh, until it rested against his lower ribs. "I missed you," she said softly between kisses. He moved his head to the side to kiss her neck and he heard her breath quicken. She moved her palm over his back and pressed her fingertips into his skin as he kissed her collarbone. Suddenly he froze. Beverly's hand tightened on his lower back. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

"I can't," he said quietly into her shoulder. His head had begun to ache, and his vision blurred around the edges.

She shifted underneath him and kissed the side of his head with a smile. "You certainly seem like you can…" she reassured him.

"No, it's not that. I'm dizzy," he said, resting his forehead against her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I just—"

She rolled him off of her gently and he grabbed his head. "It's alright," she said sitting up and putting her hand on his chest, rubbing it gently. His eyes were shut tightly. As she watched him the nasty cut on his face slowly reappeared and began to bleed slowly down the side of his face. She moved quickly to get out of bed and grabbed her med kit. Pulling out a pressure pad, she placed it on his face and it instantly tightened, meshing with his skin. At least for now, it seemed to staunch the flow of blood.

She pulled on his bathrobe and stood back watching him. "Why is it doing this, Jean-Luc? I thought having the stone nearby was supposed to prevent these wounds from returning."

He sat up slowly in bed and pulled the covers over his lap. "I don't know," he said in confusion. "I think he is angry at me…I have been outside of his world for too long and he wants me to return. Beverly," he said, looking up at her with a worried expression. "He's becoming stronger. It's as if…he's nearly here with us now. He is reaching into our world, and eventually no one will be safe."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

Later that night, Beverly had woken up curled on her side. Jean-Luc was curled against her gripping her waist tightly. His breathing was sporadic and she imagined that he was dreaming that he was running. She hoped that he was chasing someone and not being chased himself. He pressed his forehead against her shoulder blade as though he was trying to hide, but then gradually his body relaxed.

He murmured something into her ear, but she couldn't tell if he was awake or not. His arm loosened from around her waist and he brought his hand up to caress her cheek. "Yes," he murmured as if answering someone in his dream. She felt his lips on the back of her neck. She took in a sharp breath as his left hand dropped in between her breasts. He murmured something again, and she pressed her body back into his feeling her heart beat faster under his fingers. They were both aroused now, but she still couldn't tell if he was awake. "Are you awake?" She whispered over her shoulder to him as his hand dropped lower between her legs. He didn't answer and her breathing quickened. He pressed against her and lifted her nightgown….

The immense hooded figure towered above him holding a black globe shaped object in his outstretched arms. He knelt immediately, overpowered by his devotion to his master. _"You have been reluctant to leave your lesser world to return to mine …to your world,_" boomed the voice. "_Thus I made you a counterpart. You will need no one else ever_," boomed the figure.

Her auburn hair shone as he watched her, turning a fiery red in the fading sunlight. He stroked the side of her cheek as she gazed upon him. At her side was a long staff with a gleaming sharp blade at one end. In her other hand she held a tall bow and on her back was a quiver of arrows. He perceived that in every way she was his equal. This must be the queen his master had created for him. He turned his head to kiss her and she caught his chin in her strong fingers. Her blue eyes quickly clouded with tendrils of black. "Do you pledge to kill the Old King?" she demanded. "Yes," he said, and she gripped his shoulders drawing him to her as her lips greeted his fiercely.

* * *

**The next morning…**

"So, why do you think Barnes is behaving this way?" Riker asked as Troi sat down across from him in the main conference room.

Troi had just met with Ensign Barnes, and looked worried to say the least. "As with Captain Picard, Barnes has been traveling in another reality, for lack of a better word. When he returns to life as we know it-or to life as he used to know it, he finds it harder and harder to relate to what use to be his normal life."

"So when he said he has been battling the Borg he meant he has been dreaming of fighting the Borg-as the Captain has..."

Deanna shook her head. "Not exactly. _We_ envision it as some kind of dream state because they are experiencing these events at night when they should be sleeping. But there are some significant factors which support that this world they are being drawn to each night is quite real."

"Like actual wounds," Riker said. Troi nodded. "So is it actually possible that they are fighting the Borg? If so, why?"

"The significance of the Borg is as yet unclear to Captain Picard, Ensign Barnes, or even to Guinan, who seems to know more about this than anyone."

Riker paused thoughtfully. "We need to keep her in the loop then, Deanna. Any time we get glimpse into this world, I need you to sit down with Guinan, and analyze the data. We need to find out how to stop the Other."

"Agreed," she said.

Riker tapped his fingers on the table distractedly. "I see why Captain Picard was targeted; he found the artifact. But why is Barnes so special?"

"That is yet another disturbing revelation. He's _not_ special. In fact I would guess from sensing his thoughts that Barnes is expendable as far as the Other is concerned, and judging by his intense and single-minded desire to re-enter that world, Ensign Barnes does not seem to mind his lowly status. But there is something even more disturbing, Will...Barnes said that he saw at least _fifty_ other members of the crew when he last experienced the battle."

"So… are you saying the Other is trying to control our entire crew?"

Deanna nodded. "Captain Picard told me that the Other wants him to build an army—presumably to fight the Borg."

Riker sat back heavily in his chair. "What if the Other decides he doesn't want to stop once he has this crew, Deanna? Why not the Romulans…or the Klingons too—why stop with us?"

"Good question," said Troi. "And one I don't suppose we'll know the answer to anytime soon. Another puzzle is why all of the people so far selected by the Other have only minimal connections to Captain Picard. Why not any of us? Why not his command crew? Why not Beverly?"

Riker thought for a few moments. "If I recall before all of this started getting weird, Ensign Barnes professed to be a great admirer of Captain Picard. But many of our young officers are."

"And yet they have very little interaction with him on a daily basis," Troi said thoughtfully. "Put simply, they don't know him, and probably fear him a little bit."

"Meanwhile those of us who are closer to him—not that anyone is really_ close_ to Captain Picard—we are the ones who are trying to help him," said Riker. "And the Other is not the least bit interested in us. At least so far."

Troi brightened a bit. "I think you've touched on something here Will. I think that we are a threat to the Other."

"Good. We need to keep it that way." Riker got up and walked around the table, sitting down on the edge of it next to Troi. "Deanna, Admiral Nechayev had a suggestion for how to protect Captain Picard from the Other, at least to get him through the negotiations."

Troi smiled faintly. "But you are hesitant to do so. You are worried about both the Captain…and me."

"Yes, of course I am," he said looking down at her. "You know I wouldn't put you at risk, but…."

"I know you wouldn't put any of us at risk if you didn't have to," she said gently.

"But especially not you," he said taking her hand and squeezing it. She smiled up at him. "Anyway…the Admiral suggested you try some kind of mind-link with the Captain, to try and steady him, or perhaps even to weaken the link with the Other."

Deanna stood up. "Of course I will try it. Whether it will work is unclear however."

"If I were you Counselor, I would reconsider that plan," Guinan said. They looked over to find her standing in the entryway to the conference room. Deanna noted not for the first time that the bartender had impeccable timing.

* * *

Guinan had never ridden a horse before and Peaches seemed to sense this. But the escape from Sioux Falls had been so quick that it was sheer adrenaline that kept her hanging on to Peaches the horse. She struggled to hold on to the reigns of the horse, who seemed to know which way to go. Peaches followed her big brother Ulysses who galloped ahead of her with Pritchard on his back. They kept up this pace as far as she could tell for the better part of an hour.

Gradually they came to a low lying valley, and Ulysses slowed to a trot. For the first time in miles, Pritchard turned back and gestured for her to slow down. She did her best, but again Peaches seemed thankfully to know best. Both horses slowed to a walk and Pritchard pointed straight ahead to a clearing surrounded by trees.

Pritchard jumped down from his horse and led Ulysses into a shady area under a tree, looping his lead around a low lying branch. He then jogged over to Peaches who had begun grazing on some sweet grass and grabbed the reigns leading her over to stand next to Ulysses. Reaching up he helped Guinan dismount shakily from the horse.

Weak and hungry she collapsed against a tree. Pritchard rummaged through the saddle bags, whistling to himself. He had hastily stuffed the bags with goods from the wooden crates they had stolen from Bill Loomey's gang. He tossed her a small skin full of water, which she caught gratefully and began to drink.

He patted Peaches on her flank and took a long drink of water. He took off his hat and swatted a fly out of his face, rubbing the crook of his elbow over his sweaty brow. He sniffed in. The air smelled good down in this field. But he knew they couldn't stay here long safely. He scratched the back of his neck and glanced over at Guinan, unable to hide his curiosity any longer. He turned and leaned back against Peaches who nuzzled his neck affectionately. He pulled an apple out of his pocket and gave it to the horse casually, not removing his gaze from Guinan. Ulysses snorted nearby, as he apparently also would have enjoyed a tasty apple.

Guinan put her water down, not wanting to drink it all at once. Now that they were on the move, who knows when they would have more? "What?" she said, noticing his piercing stare.

"I've been around…I was in the War," he said. "But I ain't never seen a gun that shoots fire…and doesn't kill."

"Well," said Guinan slowly. "I've been around too. Like I said before…I know how to travel." She folded her arms over her chest and returned his gaze impassively.

He put his hat back on his head. "And?"

She looked at him and shrugged.

He took his hat off again and held it to his chest, studying her closely. "Where are you from?"

"Louisiana," she said easily.

He snorted. "Louisiana, _my foot_. You ain't from Louisiana…."

She shrugged again. "Where are you from?"

He straightened proudly. "I'm a Buckeye, through and through. Just like Generals Grant and Sherman."

She looked at him blankly.

"I'm from _Ohio_," he said testily.

"Ah…" she said as if that meant something to her, and settled back against the tree.

Pritchard cursed under his breath and shoved his hat down over his head. _Everyone _knew who General Ulysses Grant was, didn't they? "He used to be the President for Pete's sake!" He blurted out, shooting her an annoyed look. "You ready to head out of here? Loomey won't be far behind. And he will be only too happy to shoot the both of us," he said gruffly.

"He can always try," Guinan said, not sounding particularly concerned as she got up from the ground. She stepped into the stirrup pushed off, hoisting herself up into the saddle.

Pritchard watched her. "Not bad," he admitted. "By the end of this adventure you'll be an expert rider. But let's go now, before our adventure ends prematurely."

* * *

"What a _pretty_ ship you have," the Klingon Commander Korok sneered as he stomped through the ship next to Geordi LaForge. On LaForge's other side was the Romulan Sub-Commander Saris, making him extremely nervous without saying a word.

"I have a feeling that wasn't a compliment," Geordi said, "but you are right, it _is _pretty. We're very happy with it," he said.

"It is too bright!" Korok observed.

"Really?" LaForge shook his head. "Hadn't noticed." He glanced at Sub-Commander Saris, wondering if she appreciated his witty banter. Probably not, he decided.

"So as I was saying, the best thing about the holodeck, besides the presentation I am about to show you…is that you can create or re-create _any_ environment you desire." He looked up at Korok. "You can even create computer generated enemies to fight. I know Worf has quite a few programs for that," he said.

"_Ptagh_…artificial enemies are for _artificial_ Klingons," said Korok, sounding disgusted. "Do I look artificial to you?"

Geordi shook his head. "I…uh…no I guess not."

"And what is the recreational purpose of this…holodeck?" Saris finally asked, looking at him probingly. He realized that she was substantially taller than him.

Geordi straightened. "Well, like I said, you can do anything you want on a holodeck, really," he said.

"But why would you want to?" She demanded. "Is your own life so dissatisfying, that you require artificial stimulation?"

Korok laughed. "A Romulan with a sense of humor? What next?"

"I do not have a sense of humor," she said flatly.

"Whatever you intended, you are correct," said Korok. "Humans are so controlled by their technology that they eat artificial foods as well," he growled as though thoroughly disgusted by this fact.

"Actually I find replicators to be quite ingenious," remarked Saris.

Geordi beamed at the compliment.

"Of course replicators _are_ a Romulan invention, and one that was clearly stolen by Humans and hardly improved upon."

Geordi was so outraged by this accusation that he forgot for a moment that he was so intimidated by his attraction to Saris. "What? Are you kidding me?"

"Did you not just hear me say that I lack a sense of humor? I am certainly not 'kidding', Mr. LaForge," Saris assured him. "The replicator was invented by Tarum, a _Romulan_, in the year 2030."

LaForge shook his head again, as they reached the holodeck, but decided not to argue further with her. Was there such a thing as a Romulan who wasn't arrogant? He punched in a security code. He had a feeling what the Klingon and Romulan were about to see, would shut them both up, at least for a while. As the holodeck doors opened, he walked in ahead of them and then turned gesturing for them to enter. As the doors shut behind them Geordi opened his arms wide. "Welcome to the interior of a Borg cube…."

* * *

It was nearly nightfall by the time Pritchard was satisfied that they were far enough off the more well-traveled trails to evade Loomey's gang. Once they found a suitable site, they made camp near a stream where they both washed up. Pritchard extolled the importance of washing up downstream from where you drew your drinking water, and really she could not argue with his logic. In addition, she learned that neither one of them had the least bit of modesty when it came to bathing in front of each other. After they washed up, he explained the importance of boiling the water before drinking it to take care of any harmful microbes.

Boiling the water she knew required making a fire, something that she was not unfamiliar with, having made a fire for her ailing grandmother too many times to count. So while Pritchard watched her while drinking from a bottle of whiskey, she painstakingly built the fire. Of course she could have used her disruptor to ignite it instantly, but she had drawn enough attention to her situation already without adding to Pritchard's suspicions.

Pritchard was so delighted that she had made the fire that he set himself about making dinner out of some of the food items he had stolen from Loomey, and some he'd already had in his saddlebags. When he was done cooking something he called "chili" he handed her a bowl of it and then sat down across from her on the other side of the fire.

"Where're your people, Guinan? And I know they ain't in Louisiana," he added with a smirk, before beginning to eat quickly from his tin plate.

Her eyes widened slightly as she swallowed a mouthful of chili. Not this subject again. "My father is…a long ways away. And he and I don't get along very well," she said considering the subject closed.

Pritchard didn't seem surprised by this answer. "Hmmph. And your Ma?" He threw her the bottle of whiskey, which she caught deftly with her free hand.

Guinan took a sip of the whiskey. It burned her throat, but did not appear to have the same effect on her that it did on Pritchard. He was definitely loosening up. "I don't know where my mother is," she replied honestly. "To be honest, I stopped wondering years ago." She rolled the half empty bottle back to him.

"Hmmph," he said again with an expression that said he doubted her truthfulness. "You never forget your mother."

He took another swig of the whiskey and then wiped his mouth with a faraway expression. "My father was a full-blood Shawnee," he said. She couldn't tell from his voice if he considered that to be a good thing or not. She figured maybe he had been told long ago by someone that it wasn't. For some reason she felt a sadness he didn't seem capable of projecting himself. "Most people don't believe me since I was born in the 30's when they pushed the Indian tribes west of the Mississippi…they always ask how I stayed to grow up in Ohio." He shrugged. "A few of us stayed behind, but most of the tribes were forced to leave."

Guinan unfortunately knew nothing of what he was talking about. "What happened to your father?" she asked.

He spat onto the ground. "Murdered," he said simply. "So because my mother was a white, we stayed put. Didn't have to move to the reservation after all."

Guinan looked off into the distance. "I'm sorry about what happened to your father. It must have been difficult."

He lay back against the log. He took a long drink out of the bottle again. He burped loudly and then fell silent for a few minutes. "To tell the truth, for a long time I forgot about my Pa, probably like you forgot about your Ma…."

She finished her food and put the plate on the ground, feeling satisfied. Following his earlier example she let forth a loud burp. Pritchard looked at her in surprise and then started laughing loudly, which he continued for longer than she felt was really necessary. Eventually he quieted and stared off into the distance again. "So what made you remember him again?" She asked after a time. "Your father, I mean."

He cleared his throat and got up for a moment to poke the fire with a long stick. "It was my son," he said quietly, sitting back down on his haunches. "He looked just like my Pa." He broke into a slow smile. "Except for his red hair," he added.

_Like his mother, no doubt_, Guinan thought. She smiled, remembering what Pritchard had said about mentioning his wife. She wondered if it was still a deal-breaker, but decided not to risk mentioning it. "Where's your son? I would like to meet him some time," she ventured cautiously. She knew immediately that she had crossed a line, and his expression became unreadable.

He poked the stick into the ground absently. "You can't meet him. Not ever." Getting up suddenly he grabbed a bedroll for each of them and then tossed her one rather roughly. Without another word, he stretched out on the ground still holding the stick, and settled his head down on his other arm. When she felt herself drifting off, she could still see him staring into the fire.

* * *

**Hi thanks for reading and of course for reviewing as well. So I don't want to tell people how to interpret my stories, because they should be open for interpretation. But before someone messages me to tell me that Picard is French and Pritchard can't possibly be his ancestor-I didn't write the character of Pritchard to be an ancestor of Picard. Rather he is intended to be just another version of Picard, as Guinan is traveling across dimensions when she meets him. So Pritchard is Picard, but he's also not Picard. Maybe that makes no sense...anyway thanks again! -PP**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

* * *

He had done it for his parents…so long ago he could hardly remember. He had done it all for them, but somehow now he understood as he looked back, that things had never really been in his control. Now he was ages old. And the Borg still existed, stronger than ever. He had failed his parents.

In the old world he would still be fairly young. But something about this world; something about the incessant killing and dying had aged him far beyond his one hundred and eleven years. He sat on the throne as he always did, staring out onto the battlefield, and waiting for someone to come and challenge him. He waited for someone to take his life, take away his pain, and take his place on the throne as the new king.

* * *

Beverly pulled on her lab coat. "I'm not due to go on shift for another hour. Do you have time for breakfast?" She asked hopefully.

Picard walked toward her. "No, I am afraid not," he answered reluctantly. "Just this," he said biting into an apple he had picked up from the table. "We're getting started rather early today, at Tomalak's request." As he munched the apple he stared at the floor distractedly. She could tell by his intense expression that he was thinking about possible strategies for the conference that day.

Beverly reached out to take his hand, and he shifted his attention back to her. "Jean Luc about last night..." she began hesitantly.

He looked embarrassed. "Yes...about that. I'm truly sorry Beverly."

She stared at him unsure if they were thinking the same thing.

"It seemed to be the right time, but then that _damned_ headache interfered." He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Sorry," he said again.

"Then you don't remember?"

His smile faded as he watched her. "I _remember_ we were in the middle of something quite wonderful and suddenly I had that horrible headache again." He paused. "And then after that I must have slept very soundly, because I don't remember a thing."

She tried to keep the sudden intensity of her feelings hidden, to no avail. "Oh", she said, and let go of his hand, barely conscious that she was backing away from him.

All of a sudden he felt his insides were a jumble. He stared at her with growing confusion. "Beverly why are you looking at me like that? Should remember something that I'm not?"

He walked toward her with an outstretched hand and she quickly put her hands in her pockets. "It's nothing," she said.

He stopped and dropped his hands to his sides, shaking his head. "I don't believe you," he said quietly. Why was she lying to him? What had he done? He was almost too afraid to ask her. "Please tell me..." She stayed silent. He watched her for a few moments more and the hurt on his face was apparent.

She tried to smile at him then but it was not sincere. "You're going to be late," she said.  
He shook his head again and backed away before walking out the door of his quarters.

* * *

"Captain, we think it is worth a try," said Riker. "Troi has assessed the risks." They had just explained to the Captain their plan for establishing a mental link with him to aid in the negotiations, and generally, to help him to fight the Other. Riker had considered Guinan's objections just an hour ago, and they had decided to proceed anyway. Guinan had seemed to think that introducing someone close to Picard into the Other's world could be dangerous, although her explanation as to why was very vague.

"To yourself or to me?" Picard said coldly turning to the Counselor.

"To both of us, Captain," said Troi calmly. She hid her shock at his demeanor and the emotions beneath it. The Captain's mind was not the solid rock of just days ago. Something was turning horribly wrong inside his mind. He was of more than one mind now, and the Picard of old who relied on reason and fairness had been replaced by someone or something brutish and cagey, mistrustful of her and even Riker. And this new personality was fighting for dominance of Picard and now it appeared might be winning.

Picard stood very still watching them both as though he were waiting for them to spring some kind of trap on him. "Whose idea was this?" he demanded.

Riker took a deep breath. "It was Admiral Nechayev's idea, sir. But I take responsibility…it was my call to make—"

"It was _not_ your damn call to make!" he shouted, slamming his hand onto his desk. He circled around his desk to glare at Riker. "You went behind my back and called that-that…." he broke off clutching his hands over his face almost desperately as though trying to force himself to regain his composure. Slowly he dropped his hands and a trickle of blood dribbled down his face. He didn't seem to notice this as he looked from Riker to Troi and back again. "I do not appreciate being undermined on board my own ship," he said with quiet anger.

"Sir…everything we have done, we have tried to do in your best interest."

"Best interest…these are terms that are used when someone has lost their _mind_, Commander," Picard accused. "Do you think I have lost my mind?"

Riker hesitated. "Sir I think that you—"

He walked toward Will. "You think you are capable of taking my command from me, Riker? No more sneaking around then…come and try to take it from me," he dared.

Troi stepped forward to address him. "Captain Picard. This is not you speaking. We know you are still with us," she said firmly.

He glared back at her, but gradually his expression grew more normal. He passed a hand over his eyes, looking down at the floor. "I-I'm sorry," he said. He looked up at them. "I don't know what came over me."

Troi stepped closer. Riker had the urge to reach out and stop her, but didn't. He could tell she was trying to bring the Captain back to their reality, and for the moment it was working. "Captain it was the Other. He is trying to convince you that we are trying to harm you. But he couldn't be more wrong, sir. We are with you," she reassured him.

Picard didn't look up but he nodded slightly. "I know," he said quietly. "But sometimes I look at you—all of you and all I see are enemies surrounding me."

"Captain, would you consider our earlier proposal? To allow me to establish a link with you subconsciously?"

A dark cloud seemed to pass over his eyes again and he backed away. "Not now," he said quickly. "Commander Riker and I have work to do," he said. He turned back to look at her. "But after the negotiations are through today…I will consider it."

* * *

"Captain it seems we have reached an impasse," said Tomalak. "Your unwillingness to be forthcoming is disappointing to say the least."

Picard leaned forward intensely. He could feel his composure beginning to crack. What was happening to him? Was there another person inside of him, threatening to emerge? If he let this personality out would he himself be buried? Would he disappear forever? He knew now that the Other was determined to drag him into his world and remake him as he saw fit. In the horrible alternative it seemed the Other would enter Picard's world bent on destroying all that was dear to him. Should he allow himself to be enveloped in the Other's world so that he could spare the world and people he loved? Either way, Picard was beginning to feel helpless to avoid ruin. Even Beverly it seemed no longer trusted him enough to tell him what had really happened the night before. And he could not even remember what he had done to upset her. He could hear Riker shift tensely at his side. Riker…could he still trust this man?

"I am waiting, Captain," said Tomalak.

"I don't know what you mean," Picard said.

Tomalak glared at him. "We have good intelligence that the Federation is building a trilithium weapon to use against the Borg."

Picard scoffed. "That is nonsense-your intelligence is faulty. There has been an intergalactic ban on such weapons for decades."

"And they've only been theoretical designs at that," Riker added.

_Traitor…._Picard looked down at the table to avoid looking at his First Officer. Thoughts of doubt continuously played in his head.

"Then what an opportune time to make those designs a reality, Commander," Tomalak retorted.

Chancellor K'mpec's body shook with laughter. "Ridiculous!"

Tomalak smiled craftily. "Don't sound so certain, Chancellor. We learned this from a Klingon agent of ours."

"A _Klingon_!" K'mpec leapt to his feet with his hand on his disruptor. "No Klingon would betray his people to a _Romulan!"_

"Really," said Tomalak, sounding unimpressed. "You may want to examine your inner circle more closely, Chancellor."

K'mpec's eyes bulged grotesquely. Fuming, he pushed past his own guards angrily and stomped from the room. Confused, the guards followed him out noisily.

Tomalak folded his hands before him in the table almost serenely. "Now Captain, may we have a moment alone without your First Officer, or do you require his _assistance_…."

Picard's mouth flattened into a thin line. "Please excuse us, Commander," he said, not looking at Riker.

"But sir—"

"That is an _order_," he snapped, keeping his eyes fixed on the table. Riker stood up, staring down at Picard for another tense moment before exiting the room.

* * *

Tomalak smiled at Picard, who glared through him. "Captain, I am pleased to have a moment alone. Because now we can truly speak with honesty."

"Meaning you were lying about the trilithium weapon after all," said Picard flatly.

"Partly," admitted Tomalak. "Because we have no knowledge of such a weapon…but we do have a Klingon operative."

"You said all of that just to clear the room?" Picard asked, appalled. "I should think you would want to keep the identity of your operative secret," he said.

"He has…outlived his usefulness," said Tomalak. "Besides, the Chancellor is so paranoid that he is being poisoned he will execute everyone in his inner circle indiscriminately just based on my suggestions."

Picard stood up quickly. In his mind he pictured himself strangling the Romulan, but kept his palms flat on the table in front of him. "What do you want?"

Tomalak stood up with a smooth smile and began to pace the room, circling around in back of the Captain. Picard straightened, but didn't turn around. He closed his eyes briefly and imagined throwing Tomalak through the wall.

"Captain, if I may make a personal observation, you are clearly _unwell_. In fact, you have quickly lost control of these negotiations. Your antics at the dinner last night were most revealing. I must say that I was surprised to encounter you in such a state of mind, having heard so many things about your impressive control and presence. On Romulus there are some who even compare your control to that of a Vulcan—which believe me is not always an insult."

Picard looked down at the table and clenched his fists. "Just tell me what you want," he demanded.

Tomalak put his hands behind his back and walked to a corner of the room, facing the wall. "It wasn't until I learned you were under the influence of an alien force, that I decided to broach this subject to you…perhaps it was your vulnerability that caused me to have such pity upon you." He turned to regard Picard with a curious smile.

Picard's head whipped up to glare at the Romulan. "What did you say? What alien force?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Tomalak's smile widened. "Why Commander Riker told me following the dinner that you are being influenced by an alien force. What an interesting affliction."

Picard felt a cold fury enter his soul. Riker had betrayed him again. How could he reveal such a thing to someone as treacherous as this Romulan? He was surrounded by traitors.

Tomalak hesitated ever so slightly as he watched a thin cloud of black crawl over Captain Picard's eyes and then disappear again. "We Romulans have a fearsome weapon, Picard. And we are planning to use it against the Borg—in fact it was developed just for them. To wipe them from the universe as though they never existed. Are you interested?"

_The Borg_. The words echoed through his brain. Picard stared through the Romulan commander. "Why are you telling me this?"

Tomalak walked back toward him. "It's a virus, both synthetic and organic."

"If your weapon is so powerful, why do you even need to tell me?" _A weapon to destroy the Borg_, the voice whispered to him.

"Perhaps it is not complete," admitted Tomalak. "Perhaps we would like to develop it further." Picard said nothing. "We are willing to share the weapon with the Federation, Picard."

Picard laughed and shook his head. He was having trouble concentrating on Tomalak's strange proposal. _Destroy the Borg_. Was it even real? He was having trouble determining who was a friend and who was an enemy. "What's the catch?"

"The Klingons…you must break the alliance you have with them." _There is no alliance_, said the voice. _You lead the one army, Picard. My army._

Picard's mind was swimming. He had to leave, had to get away. He heard the words come out of his mouth as though they were spoken by someone far away. "We'll reconvene tomorrow," he said weakly, before quickly leaving Tomalak standing in silence.

* * *

"Beverly," said Deanna gently. "I don't want you to think I am criticizing you, but why didn't you tell him what happened last night?"

They sat in Counselor Troi's office. Beverly twisted her hands in front of her with a look of anguish on her face. "I don't know," she said honestly.

"Are you angry with him?"

"No," said Beverly.

"So you don't regret that it happened?"

"Yes of course I regret it," Beverly said quickly.

"Why? Was it something you did not want to happen?"

Beverly closed her eyes and shook her head. "No it's not like that at all. At the time, yes, I did want it to happen. I wanted him."

"But now?"

"Now I think that it wasn't him at all. It was someone else—as though they were acting through him—using his body. And I almost can't bear to think of it."

Deanna leaned forward and held her friend's hands in hers. "Beverly, I am glad you are telling me this." She paused. "And I can tell that you feel guilty about not telling Captain Picard. But it is important to think of yourself too, and how you feel about what happened."

"Thank you Deanna, but I'm alright. I just feel as though I should have trusted him enough to tell him this morning."

Deanna squeezed Beverly's hands. "I think you are being too hard on yourself in this situation."

The truth was she had been afraid of hurting him. Beverly sighed and tried to sit up straighter. "What do you think happened—I mean, what did it mean?"

Troi tried to smile comfortingly. "I think that you were both used…used by the Other. He was trying to draw Captain Picard back into his world. So I believe that whatever happened between you last night, was part of that. But I also believe that part of him might have been present there with you."

Beverly looked at Troi with a hopeful expression. She smiled wearily. "I really hope he was, Deanna. I hope that's true."

* * *

Picard waited until they had materialized in transporter room one. Riker had tried to speak to him twice prior to transport, but he hadn't given the traitor the satisfaction of answering him. And when he stepped down off the transporter pad once on the Enterprise, Riker had reached his hand out toward Picard. Riker didn't see the first punch coming, and it hit him squarely in the throat. Riker staggered backward wheezing, grasping for his throat. He was too strong for Riker now, too strong for any of them.

But he didn't see O'Brien come from the side, and felt the stun beam several times before it knocked him to the ground. But it didn't matter, for he would get up again, and they would be sorry they had betrayed him.


End file.
